


Stay With Me

by Casey Kelly (Over_autumns_ending)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Bottom!Cas, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Doctors, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Gabriel - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Medical School, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Top!Cas, anna milton - Freeform, balthazar - Freeform, becky rosen - Freeform, bottom!Dean, castiel - Freeform, doctor!AU, meg masters - Freeform, sick!Sam, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Over_autumns_ending/pseuds/Casey%20Kelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Destiel. Castiel has just graduated medical school and is starting his residency at Boston General Hospital. A last minute change has him stuck with Dr. Dean Winchester as his mentor. What starts out as a rough and rocky partnership slowly turns into exactly what the doctor prescribed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swear my writing isn't as cheesy as that summary was. Let me know what you think of it so far!

"And it is with the utmost respect and certainty of success that I send you out into the medical field as the finest doctors Harvard University has had thus far," the president of the medical school said, concluding his speech and the ceremony with a smile.

Castiel stood with his classmates as they tossed their caps in the air, cheering. He watched as the other graduates dispursed into large groups of family and friends, flashes on cameras going off like strobe lights. He managed to find Anna in the mass of people, her red hair and wide smile like a beacon to him.

"I… am so proud of you, Castiel. You have idea," she said, pulling him into a tight hug. When she let him go she put a hand to his scruffy cheek. "You couldn't have shaved for a special occasion?" She laughed, patting his cheek gently.

"It's not that special," he said, dropping his head.

"Castiel, you just graduated medical school from Harvard- with honors!" she said, picking at the gold cord around his neck. Castiel blushed, cracking a smile.

"Balthazar and Gabriel wanted to come up to be here with you but they couldn't get time off work." Castiel nodded in understanding of what his sister said, as well as what was left unsaid. The rest of his brothers didn't care to come see their youngest sibling graduate. They weren't there when he recieved his bachelors degree, so he wasn't sure why it burned somewhere inside of him that they weren't standing there now.

"Balthazar? Oh my god, you weren't kidding when you said you're all named after angels!"

Castiel smiled and turned around to see a girl his height with light brown hair falling out of her cap where she'd tucked it up, her hazel eyes twinkling as she looked at him.

"Anna," he said, throwing an arm around the blonde. "This is Becky. I wouldn't have gotten through this without her." He was beaming as he looked at her, admiration clear in his eyes.

"Anna?" Becky hugged her and stepped back, putting her arm around Castiel's waist. "You got off lucky with that name, didn't you?" She had as much excitement as a little chihuahua.

"Because I was the favorite from birth,"Anna winked.

"Oh, I like her! Did Castiel tell you how we met?" Becky asked. Anna shook her head. "Well… I hit on him before I knew he was gay."

"Yeah, he keeps it under wraps a little too well," Anna agreed.

Becky called her parents over and posed for a picture with the Milton siblings with promises to give them a copy as she parted with family.

 

Since it was just he and his sister, Castiel decided to take her around the city he barely had time to explore the past five years. He pretty much only knew a handful of 24-hour diners in the grubbier parts of town. He'd not really bothered having any of his siblings visit him during school, making up excuses the handful of times Anna or Gabriel said they'd visit. He knew they were doing it out of politeness.

Only Balthazar understood not to bother with the niceties. While Castiel got along well with Anna and Gabriel, he was always closest to Balthazar growing up. He always seemed to know exactly what Castiel needed without it being spoken.

When Castiel came out to his family his senior year of high school, most everyone reacted differently, but Balthazar was the only one to pat him on the back, kiss his temple, and leave it at that. Exactly what Castiel had wanted; so it stung a little that his closest sibling wasn't with him, but he knew there was no way Balthazar could take time away from his bar. He hadn't taken a day off since he opened it five years ago to help pay Castiel's student loans.

Maybe he'd drive down to his home in West Virginia with Anna and see his siblings before he truly had no free time.

Castiel and Anna were in a diner two blocks from Southie, a thick permenant cloud of smoke filling the small room. Castiel showed his sister to his usual booth in the corner by one of the windows.

Anna slid into the booth smoothly, looking as comfortable as if she had grown up in the neighborhood. He loved that about his sister.

"So you're all set up with a hospital for your residency? When do you start?" Anna asked, after they ordered two bowls of chili, the diner's specialty.

Cas nodded, taking a sip of coffee. "Next week. I'm going to be at Boston General with a Doctor…Belinda, I think it is. She's head of ER and triage."

"That's great. I really am so proud of you," Anna smiled, grabbing his hand across the sticky table.

Castiel laughed, blushing as he squeezed her hand before she let go. "Yeah. You've said that a few times today."

"Well excuse me!" Anna laughed.

The sole waitress of the diner - a frizzy grey-haired woman with an ashy cigarette hanging out of her wrinkled mouth - set their chili down in front of them and patted Castiel on the back. "Congrats, baby. Maybe we won't see you here so often now that you're done with school," she said with a gravelly voice before walking away.

"Is Becky gonna be close by?" Anna asked, bringing her spoon to her lips.

"Yeah, she'll be at Boston General too. They put her in the pediatric cancer ward. Hopefully we'll be able to see each other sometime," Castiel answered. "So, I was thinking I should go back home with you and see everyone before I start at the hospital."

Anna put her spoon back into her bowl of chili and looked up at her younger brother. "Oh boy…"


	2. Chapter 2

     It was a long drive down to West Virginia, but Anna made it enjoyable with plenty sing-a-longs to Bob Dylan songs and random stops along the coast to wander the beaches as an unconventional way to stretch their legs. That was Anna for you. Since Castiel was little, she had always been thinking of ways to keep her younger siblings entertained, like a surrogate mother.  
     One day, on an unexpected day off from school she had teamed up with Balthazar and they’d taken Castiel and Gabriel to the city park in Charleston where a dog fair was being held. The four of them spent the entire day and well into the evening at the park, playing with dogs. While Gabriel had gone from dog to dog the throughout the day, playing with different breeds and ages; Castiel had found a particular dog an hour into playing. It was an old dog, probably thirteen years old or so, with a limp and a few thinning spots in his off white hair. Castiel saw him on the other side of a play pin, sitting alertly in the corner and watching him. Castiel moved slowly yet confidently towards the dog and stuck his hand out, allowing it to sniff him. The old dog moved right past his hand and pushed him to the ground, licking his cheek.  
     He spent the rest of the day with that dog; it followed him everywhere around the park. When he and Gabriel met up with Anna and Balthazar at the end of the day, the dog was still at Castiel’s side. Balthazar gently told him they couldn’t take the dog home, Michael and the older brothers would never allow it. But Anna…sweet Anna took Castiel aside and had him promise to keep an eye on the dog at all times, she would work on the older brothers; they seldom said no to her. Castiel didn’t think that’d be a problem seeing as how the dog seemed to be glued to his side.  
     They’d brought the dog home, all steeling for Michael’s reaction. The eldest brother had said nothing until after dinner as he watched the old canine follow the youngest Milton around, alert to every movement the boy made. Only then had Michael simply nodded in Castiel’s direction, a silent understanding that the dog stayed out of everyone else’s way.  
     Later that night, before bed, Raphael and Uriel checked out the pet for themselves, warming up to him. They asked its name. Novak, Castiel had said. The older brothers grimaced, but nodded. The old dog only lasted another three years, a feat for any dog, but by the end of those three years all of the Miltons, save for Michael and Lucifer, formed a bond with Novak.

     “We’re here,” Anna said, bringing Castiel out of his memories.  
     Castiel looked out of the passenger window. His childhood home sagging there amongst the trees; its yellow paint peeling in large chunks, the second floor seeming to sit almost in the first floor. The ever constant dull smokey sky of the coal mining town caused even the dullest of things to appear just the slightest bit brighter.  
     “Yeah, when I said home,” Castiel grunted, getting of the car and stretching. “I meant maybe staying at your place or Balthazar and Gabriel’s. Not my actual home. With brothers that would happily murder me in my sleep.”  
     “You said you wanted to come back with me to West Virginia,” Anna shrugged, grinning. “This is where I was coming for the weekend.”  
     “Fantastic,” Castiel grumbled, getting out of the car with his sister to retrieve their bags. He turned from the open trunk of the car to see his eldest brother looming in the front door, taking up the entire space with his muscled frame dressed in his military uniform. He looked to Anna and sighed, closing the trunk.  
     He slowly walked up the crooked couple of steps to the front door. “Michael,” he said as way of greeting, trying to side step past him to get through the door. Michael didn’t move and Castiel bumped into his shoulder. The brothers stood staring in strained silence for a minute.  
     “Hello, Michael,” Anna said cheerily, stepping in between Castiel and him to give Michael a kiss on the cheek and push him aside to get into the house.  
     “I have to go on base and do some last minute work. I won’t be home for dinner,” Michael said to Anna while still staring at Castiel as he slipped past into the house.  
     Castiel shut the door without looking behind him.  
     “Was that necessary, Castiel?” Anna asked, rolling her eyes. He only shrugged, a bit of a grin ghosting the corner of his mouth.  
     “Is my room still free?” he asked, heading for the stairs. Anna nodded, tossing her weekend bag onto the couch with a huff. “No one wants to touch the fag’s things, right?” Castiel chuckled bitterly, ignoring the hurt expression on his sister’s face as he took the stairs two at a time to the second floor.  
     His childhood room was at the end of the hall on the right. He always thought it was the best room in the house with its giant floor to ceiling window taking up most of one wall, over looking the backyard where a sandbox and man-made pond used to sit. All that was left of it now was a small patch of white sand in the middle of the yard and a dried bed where water previously erroded the land.  
     Back when Michael tolerated all of his family - because honestly that’s all he ever did with people was tolerate them - and Castiel was no more than four years old, they used to gather in the backyard on Saturdays. His mother and father were still alive back then and Michael was still fresh in the military. Castiel would play in the sandbox with Anna while Uriel and Raphael manned the grill, Balthazar and Gabriel splashing in the pond.  
     That was the only time Castiel would feel he and his family were normal - save for his parents’ older age - were those lazy Saturdays.  
     Castiel was beginning to remember what that sand box sand felt like when he was pulled from his memories by voices coming from downstairs. With a smile he hurried down to the first floor.  
     “Well I’m sure the resident doctor of the family can take a look at it for you,” Gabriel was saying to Balthazar, looking to Castiel when he walked up to them. “Castiel, his dick isn’t supposed to be that itchy right?” Balthazar smacked him on the back of the head, grinning at Castiel and adjusting his black v-neck tshirt.  
     “Well if we stopped sleeping with girls that are just passing through the bar on their way to their new stripping job maybe we wouldn’t have these issues,” Castiel said, feigning seriousness.  
     “Listen to the bite on that puppy! Sounds like Boston’s hardened you up, baby boy!” Balthazar laughed, pulling Castiel in by the back of the neck for a hug. Castiel wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist tightly and sighed into his chest.  
     “I missed you,” he whispered, the beginnings of tears stinging his eyes. Balthazar kissed the top of his head and gently pushed him back. Castiel then moved to his other brother. “Gabriel,” he rolled his eyes, laughing as he hugged his brother so tightly he pushed them both against the back of the couch, almost falling over it.  
     Anna stood back watching it all like the little surrogate mother she was. “Uriel and Rahpael should be home soon from fishing, then we’ll figure out what to do with dinner,” she explained, sitting down in Michael’s recliner.  
     “Joy,” Castiel murmured, plopping down on the worn couch by Anna.  
     “They’ll get over it one day,” Gabriel said, sitting next to his youngest brother, slapping his hand on his knee.

 

     Dinner was pretty much what Castiel expected it to be.  
     Awkward.  
     Raphael and Uriel had fried up the fish they caught as well as some shrimp they’d pick up on the way home and Anna served it all with cheese grits and sweet tea. It’d been a while since Castiel enjoyed these southern foods.  
     Raphael and Uriel had made no effort in trying to bond with their youngest brother, choosing to sit at the farthest end of the dinner table from him and only engaging in conversation where Castiel had opted out of.  
     “Please tell me you didn’t keep yourself locked in your apartment the entire time you were in school. You partied a little at least, right? Dated even?” Gabriel asked him, innocently trying to include Castiel in some conversation.  
     Castiel had a spoon full of grits halfway to his mouth that was waiting wide open when he froze. His eyes drifted up to Uriel. His brother looked absolutely disgusted.  
     “I suppose it’s a good thing this family went into a few hundred thousand dollars of debt for you to become a doctor,” Uriel said, maintaing eye contact with Castiel. He thought for a second that Uriel was actually saying something nice. He was wrong. “You’ll be able to medicate any foul homo disease you catch.”  
     “Honestly, Uriel,” Balthazar sighed, dropping his fork to his plate. “No need. There was absolutely no need for that. Castiel, what - where are you going?”  
     Castiel silently got up from the dinner table and walked up stairs. On the outside he looked calm and unfazed as he packed the few items of clothing that he’d pulled out back into his duffel bag. On the inside he was livid. He was disgusted at how his own family could treat him in such a vile way. He’d never once harmed his family in any way physical or mental yet his oldest brothers had mentally abused him since he was seventeen. And why?  
     Simply because he liked to fuck men.  
     “Fuck you all,” he spat under his breath as he hoisted his duffel bag over his shoulder and without a word walked down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the calls and pleas from Gabriel, Balthazar, and Anna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a short chapter after such a long wait but the next one will be a little better. I originally had what is now chapters 2 and 3 as one but it felt like too much so I've split them and will post chapter three within the next couple days. I hope you're liking the story so far; let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

     Castiel jumped as his alarm sounded that it was 4am, the first day of his career as a doctor. He groaned into his pillow and grappled for the alarm in the dark of his room. He couldn’t find the damned button so he settled for throwing it across the room blindly. It landed in his over-flowing hamper of dirty clothes.  
     It’d been a week since Castiel had talked to any of his siblings. Even ignoring calls from Balthazar and Gabriel. Anna had sent him a text yesterday simply saying, “Good luck tomorrow, love you.” He’d replied with a “thnx” and left it at that. Maybe he was being mildly childish but he couldn’t help it. He was hurt. No one had stood up for him; everyone bowing down yet again to the older brothers, afraid to go against them - in person at least. He was so tired of the heirarchy of his family, giving all the power to Michael, Uriel, and Raphael. It’d been like that since his parents’ deaths too many years ago and he was finished feeding into it.  
     He shook his head, trying to clear his mind for the long day ahead. Leaving the lights out, he shuffled to the bathroom, where he also left himself in the dark and brushed his teeth.  
     He tried not to think about his siblings on his four block walk to the hospital, stopping for a coffee at a local cafe two streets away from his destination. It was packed uncomfortably with medical staff getting their caffeine fixes before starting the day shift.  
     He didn’t frequent this side of town so he wasn’t familiar with this particular cafe; he hoped he was gently pushing his way to the end of the line. He was jostled aside by a burly man with balding silver hair and “Celestial Works Plastic Surgery” stitched to his white coat.  
     “Know your place, little guy,” the silver-haired man snapped, grabbing his coffee from the barista. He gave Castiel a hard shoulder check on his way out.  
     “That’s Zachariah Smith,” came from Castiel’s side. He turned to the voice and saw a petite, round-faced woman with brunette curls wearing a black leather jacket and holding two large coffees. “I mean all the plastic surgeons have a God complex, but Zachariah.” She let out a low whistle and rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna guess you’re straight outta school since you’re standing in the pick up line and I didn’t notice you in line to order.” Castiel looked around and finally noticed the line he should’ve been in. He sighed and put his head in his hand. “Look, take this extra one,” she nudged his shoulder with one of the coffees. “But don’t get used to it; I’m not nice on a regular basis. Just don’t make me have a one sided conversation next time.”  
     “Thank you,” Castiel says, taking the coffee.  
     “Better already,” she said with a wink. “See you around, cutie pie.”  
     She was out the door before he could even move or decide if she had actually slapped his ass or he bumped into someone. He hoped it was the latter.

     Castiel was almost late for his shift after getting turned around within the hospital. He was stood in the breakroom, feeling ridiculous in his white coat. He felt like he was his awkward, strange high school self playing dress up. He adjusted the coat over his shoulders and stood a little straighter. He was still awkward and strange, but dammit he was a doctor…almost.  
     He looked around the small room filled with somewhere around twelve residents and seemed to be the only one freaking out. He was in the middle of wishing he’d at least gotten a night shift so he could see Becky beforehand when the resident doctors filed in. There were six, four female and two male. Castiel was trying to figure out which woman was his mentor when he heard his name called.  
     “Milton? Cas-st…Milton?”  
     “Oh!” Castiel jolted back to reality. “Me! That’s me.” He pushed forward and was left breathless at what stood before him. The man that had called his name was…well, Castiel wasn’t good with adjectives so all he could think of was that this man was a god. He was pretty sure he was more beautiful than a god, yet still had that tough, manly edge to him. His hair was cut military style like Michael’s and was that shade you couldn’t decipher from light brown or dirty blonde; he had never seen eyes as green as the doctor’s either. Castiel wondered why this man was standing in front of him instead of modeling somewhere in Europe with those cheekbones and lips. And that perfectly sculpted stubble...  
     Get a grip, he thought to himself.  
     “I’m sorry,” Castiel said, shaking his head and causing his hair to flop into his eyelashes. Why hadn’t he gotten a haircut, he probably looked so unprofessional to this Doctor-Model man. “I was told I’d be working with Dr. Belinda,” Castiel said as the doctor guided him out of the breakroom and pulled a thick clipboard from his coat pocket. Castiel peered into the pocket of his own coat. How deep were these things?  
     “Yeah, she had a last minute transfer to a hospital in Springfield. So ‘fraid you’re stuck with me for the duration of your residency,” the Doctor-Model said with a wink.  
     Seven years with this man...  
     “It’s Castiel, by the way.”  
     “Huh?” Doctor-Model grunted, flipping through charts. “Walk.”  
     Castiel followed him, occasionally sprinting to keep up with him down the crowded hallway. “My name, it’s Castiel.”  
     “Yeah,” Doctor-Model trailed off, glancing over his shoulder to Castiel. “I’m just gonna call you Dr. Milton. How’s that sound?” Doctor-Model said, winking again. He was going to have to stop doing that if he expected Castiel to breathe properly.  
     “And you are?” Castiel asked.  
     “Winchester. Dean once I decide you’re good enough for my ER,” Dr. Winchester said, turning into one of the ER rooms. There were four beds, each separated by curtains. Castiel glanced at his phone; five a.m. and all of the beds were full. There was a man in his forties with a dirty face and hair, moaning and carrying on in one of the beds.  
     “Shut your whining, Percy!” Dr. Winchester snapped. Castiel looked on in shock as Percy went silent. “And what hurts this time?” Dr. Winchester flipped through more charts on his clipboard.  
     “My stomach, boss. Owww…Oh, it hurts!” Percy started writhing. Dr. Winchester slapped him on the leg.  
     “Percy, you son of a bitch. You think I’m stupid? You’re in here twice a week for the past four years and you have a known opiate addiction. Go score on the street. I don’t want you back in my ER unless your dumbass has overdosed or I’m getting PD involved,” Dr. Winchester said calmly, almost friendly.  
     “You wouldn’t even get an opiate-based med for a stomach pain,” Castiel added, out of reflex. His mentor glared at him making him blush and avert his eyes. What Castiel didn’t see was the doctor grinning as he turned away.  
     “Out in ten, Percy,” Dr. Winchester announced, turning on his heel and expecting Castiel to follow. Outside of the room the doctor slapped a set of folders and charts against Castiel’s chest as he hurriedly went to grab them before they fell. He caught all but one folder and it fell to the floor, spilling its contents.  
     “Oh shit, I’m-I…sorry,” Castiel stuttered, scrambling around the doctor’s shoes to gather the papers. He saw the legs in front of him bend and then Dr. Winchester’s face was daringly close to his.  
     “You’ve got to chill out, man,” Dr. Winchester said, low enough that Castiel was pretty sure only he could hear. “You graduated - from fucking Harvard Medical. You passed the MCAT, apparently with flying colors. I’m not gonna toss you outta here unless you come dangerously close to killing someone.” He picked up the remaining papers next to his feet and handed them to Castiel. “And I’m not going to throw you to the wolves. I’m your mentor; I’m here to help. So calm down,” Dr. Winchester said with a small smile, patting Castiel’s shoulder before they both stood up.  
     “And back here,” Dr. Winchester continued as if nothing had happened. He took him to a small room in the middle of the nurse’s station, there were three mohagany desks separated by thin dividers. “Is my office. You’ll be sharing it with me. You’ve got Dr. Masters on this side,” he pointed to his left. A woman with dark wavy hair was bent over a mound of paperwork; she looked up at her name.  
     The woman from the cafe.  
     “Hey, cutie pie; it’s you,” she smiled, her cheeks rounding.  
     Dr. Winchester looked between the two of them with a smirk. “Already aquainted?” he asked.  
     “I - we…” Dammit, Castiel, he thought to himself. He took a breath and turned to Dr. Winchester. “Sort of. She assisted me at a cafe.” He smiled at the woman. “I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself before. Castiel…Milton.”  
     “Dr. Milton,” she said with a sly smile. “Name’s Meg, head of Psychiatric ER. Now if you don’t mind, some of us don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty. I have a shitload of paperwork to do before my lunch break so keep your powwow to your side of the office.”  
     “Oh, bite me, Masters,” Dr. Winchester groaned turning away. “This is my - well, our desk over here.” He turned to the desk furthest away. Dr. Winchester was shuffling papers, trying in vain to clear some of the mess as Castiel stared at the desk in the middle. It was in pristine condition, no signs of an occupant. Dr. Masters had little bobbles and nicnaks littering her desk and Castiel could see picture frames and a couple awards and diplomas framed on Dr. Winchester’s side of the room, but nothing but the basics on the middle desk.  
     “Does no one use this one?” he asked, pointing to the desk.  
Dr. Winchester looked up, hunched over his desk. “Ah, yeah. Hey-Zoos Christopher,” he said, over pronouncing the first name . “He’s head of the entire hospital but he’s never really around - especially when things go to shit.”  
     “Ain’t that the truth,” Dr. Masters murmured from her side of the room.

     The rest of the morning went as smoothly as it could when Castiel was involved. He dropped twenty-seven out of thirty-two files due to shaky hands, forgot basic diagnoses for basic symptoms, and counted his mentor rolling his eyes at least sixty-seven times. Dr. Winchester only grunted and shoved him out of the way twelve times, so Castiel saw that as a positive for the day’s halfway mark.  
     Castiel felt himself breathe a deep sigh of relief as he sat down in the hospital’s cafeteria with his lunch. Dr. Winchester had made him go ahead on his break while he finished up paperwork so he wouldn’t “fuck anything else up. I’d like to get home before midnight, thanks.”  
     A whole hour without patients. A whole hour without paperwork. A whole hour without nurses yelling at him. And best of all a whole hour without Dr. Winchester and his perfect face to make him unable to function.  
     Just as Castiel took a bite of his soggy turkey sandwich, someone sat down at his table across from him.  
     Dr. Dean Winchester.  
     Did this man not realize what he did to Castiel? He just wanted a moment of peace.  
     “Paperwork finished?” Castiel asked tentatively. Dr. Winchester gave one curt nod, digging into a hefty slice of blueberry pie as his BLT sat there. The deep crease between his brows gave Castiel the impression the doctor was highly pissed off. Probably with his new resident. Castiel was trying, he really was. It’s just so different going from a classroom to actually handling sick people in a real hospital.  
     “Look, doctor - “ Castiel started, but Dr. Winchester put a hand up and took one more bite of his pie before speaking.  
     “I’m tired, really tired,” he said into his plate. “It’s been a long day and it’s barely halfway through. Don’t choose this moment to become a chatty Kathy.”  
     “I…” Castiel opened and closed his mouth, stunned. He wasn’t trying to bother the guy. He just wanted to apologize for how difficult he had been.  
     And that’s when the doubt started to creep back, all the times his brothers said he wasn’t cut out to be a doctor, wasn’t made for it, was stupid for choosing this career. Bile began rising in his throat.  
     “Apologies,” Castiel bit out, grabbing his tray to dump into the trashcan before sprinting to the bathroom. The blood rushed through his ears so loud he never even heard his mentor call out to him as left the cafeteria.  
     He didn’t want to be the nerdy kid in the bathroom, so he just walked and took stairs, and walked more, finally ending up in their office. He sat at the hospital head’s desk, not feeling as if he had the right to use Dr. Winchester’s, and dropped his head into his folded arms.  
     “First day a little rough, cutie pie?” came from the corner.  
     Castiel jumped at the sound of Dr. Master’s voice. He looked up, sputtering, “I - I didn’t know you were still in here…”  
     “I don’t mind the company,” she shrugged, pulling a thick spiral bound book from a book shelf on her side of the room. “Have a problem with Princess Winchester, did we?”  
     Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion.  
     Dr. Masters chuckled as she leaned against the desk near him. “Great doctor,” she said, setting the book down. “Really. You’re lucky to have him as a mentor and if you can stick it out you may be just as good.” She scrunched her nose up. “But we all know he’s a little difficult to work with. It’s partly why he’s never been willing to mentor before, but with Dr. Belinda transferring and them making Winchester sole head of ER, well, he kinda has to open up his plate more.”  
     “I just - “ Castiel started, but Dr. Masters put a hand up to stop him. Why was no one letting him finish a fucking sentence around here?  
     “Whatever happened, I don’t need to know. I have a enough drama with my patients,” she said, getting up and heading for her desk. “Winchester doesn’t know how to communicate.” She crooked a smile at Castiel. “And he sure as hell doesn’t babysit. Brush him off and do your job. You’re still here so he must see something in you.”

 

     When Dr. Winchester got back to the office, neither he nor Castiel spoke as they went into the ER. Castiel noticed the lines between the doctors brows were harder and he wouldn't make eye contact with him. That was fine by Castiel; he just wanted to finish this shift and go home.

     At 7 p.m. Castiel was sitting silently next to Dr. Winchester at their desk, both of them with their heads cradled in opposite hands, going over paperwork from the days patients and general ER protocols. Castiel yawned for the hundredth time, trying to hide it in his hand, before sitting up a little straighter as he signed his name on yet another document.

     "Alright, just head on home. I've got this," Dr. Winchester mumbled, voice going even more gravelly with sleepiness. He grabbed the piece of paper Castiel had and scribbled _Dean Winchester, M.D._ under Castiel's signature. He was too tired to fight the doctor so he simply nodded and dragged his chair back to the unused desk before leaving the office for his walk home.


	4. Chapter 4

     Castiel managed to stay silent around Dr. Winchester, save for answering necessary questions around patients, until thursday evening. He was actually starting to feel a little bit like an ass as the doctor was trying to make conversation with cheesy jokes accompanied by even cheesier grins, but Castiel had held stead-fast with his icy silence. 

     “Like dealing with a fucking woman,” Dr. Winchester mumbled, checking over a chart of an infant with a high fever they’d seen earlier. Castiel was sitting across from them at their desk, having already mastered the art of paperwork on his second day. If only he could master the doctor part.

     “Excuse me?” Castiel scoffed, setting his pen down and looking up from a stack of files.

     “How did - Do you have bat hearing or something?” Dr. Winchester, stammered. Clearly Castiel was not supposed to hear that.

     “You aren’t as smooth as you think you are,” Castiel said, narrowing his eyes and going back to his files.

     “It got you talking,” Dr. Winchester mumbled again. Castiel slammed his pen down this time. “Easy! You’re gonna scratch the wood!”

     “Are you kidding me?” Castiel practically yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. Dr. Winchester looked over, shocked. “The last time I tried having a conversation with you, I was basically told to shut the fuck up. And now I’m acting like a woman because I’m choosing not to be yelled at again?”

     “Well, that is pretty womanly,” Dr. Winchester said, smirking.

     “Just shut up!” Cas snapped, standing to his feet. “I don’t know what your problem is, but get over it. We all have them, but you don’t see anyone else acting like an ass because of it. I just…don’t get you. One minute you’re giving me a pep talk, the next you’re being a complete dick!”

Castiel was breathing heavily as he looked down at the doctor who he swore was blushing. When he sat down Dr. Winchester looked at him for a moment, a ghost of a smile on his lips, before extending his hand.

     “Hey, I’m Dean,” he said, full blown toothy smile on his face. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes and shook the hand in front of him. “Castiel,” he said.

     “Isn’t that an angel?” Dean asked, going back to the thin stack of files in front of him.

     Castiel groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. My parents were pretty into angels.” He blinked hard trying to clear his vision and focus.

     “I feel you, man,” Dean said, sticking his upper lip out and balancing his pen on it. “My dad was always reading about old folklore, like monsters and all that shit.” He groaned before pushing papers aside. “I can’t focus anymore and tomorrow is our weekly night shift. You ready to call it quits?”

     “I was ready hours ago,” Castiel said, straightening until his back popped. He and Dean gathered everything strewn across the desk into one messy pile in a corner of the desk and headed for the locker rooms. 

     With the lockers lined up along the walls of the breakroom Castiel was able to have an unobstructed view of Dean changing out of his scrubs as he did the same. He was enjoying the show of Dean stretching a black t-shirt over his shoulders when he started speaking and Castiel had to turn back to his locker pretending to look for his deodorant and searching for his own tshirt. 

     “Hey, I know we’re both tired, but,” Dean trailed off. Castiel froze, now keenly aware he was alone with the doctor in the locker room, his chest bare. He could see from the corner of his eye that Dean had taken of his scrub bottoms, standing there in black boxer briefs. “Well, we should get to know each other a bit if I’m gonna be your mentor for the next few years. You wanna get a beer downtown?”

     “Tonight?” Castiel squeaked, finally finding his gray t-shirt and slipping it on.

     “Yeah…” Dean answered slowly, as if Castiel were a child.

     “Um.” Castiel looked around the empty breakroom. There was no way Dr. Dean Winchester was in any way interested in him past the whole co-worker bonding and Castiel didn’t trust himself around alcohol, even just a beer or two. “I don’t think - we should go without inviting Dr. Masters!” Castiel blurted just as she walked in. While his stomach sank, his heart fluttered a bit; he wanted to get to know this rough-edged doctor, but he just didn’t trust his nervous self not to screw up his career.

     “Oh,” Dean said, making eye contact with a confused Meg. “Yeah, of course. You in?”

     She looked between the two half dressed men and chuckled. “Sure thing. Should be interesting,” she said, opening her locker and changing. Castiel locked eyes with her, his gaze lingering over her body as she bent to pull on her jeans. She winked, catching him, and he turned back to his locker, face flushed with embarrassment. 

 

 

     “And so,” Dean yelled, partially to be heard over the crowd in the bar and partially because he was well on his way to being a little too tipsy, “the guy’s covered in blood, not even his own, and he’s runnin’ aroun’ buck naked yammerin’ on about Teletubbies!”

     “So, he hands his chart over and tells me to deal with the loon,” Meg picks up the story, rolling her eyes and taking a swig of her beer. 

     Castiel gave a small chuckle, a little uncomfortable sitting in between Dean and Meg, bellied up to the bar. He never really went out socially in college or med school, preferring to study and maintain his 4.0 gpa over trying to weed out which guys were gay and which were straight in a bar. He was learning that Dean was rather touchy-feely with a little alcohol in him and he was winding himself up, trying to keep arousal at bay everytime Dean patted his arm or his back. He almost lost it when Dean put a hand at the back of his slightly sweaty neck, squeezing before he gently pushed Castiel forward to ask a work-related question to Meg on his other side. 

That was nearly twenty minutes ago and Castiel felt as if he could still feel that hand hot against his neck. 

     “Turns out he was just on a bad LSD trip,” Dean stage-whispered in Castiel’s ear, winking when he leaned back. “You said you’ve never been here?” Castiel shakes his head, nursing his beer. “You never set foot outside in school then, I guess. It’s pretty popular with the Harvard crowd.”

     “I was more focused on my school work. I was on scholarship and loans a-and me and people,” Castiel squinted, “we don’t really mix that well.”

     “Oh, you could’ve fooled me,” Meg said dryly, taking the last swig of her beer. “As much fun as all this sexual tension has been. I’m tired as hell and have to be back at work in less than five hours. Walk me home, cutiepie?”

     “I, um…” Castiel looked to Dean, whose brow was screwed up in confusion as he downed the last of his Jack and Coke. Castiel started to panic; surely he wasn’t being that obvious.

     “To the bus stop then,” Meg said, hopping off her stool and sliding her arm around Castiel’s bicep and gently tugging him along. “See you around, Winchester.” 

     Dean raised his empty glass to them before saying, “See you at five, Dr. Milton.”

     Meg dragged Castiel through the bar to the exit, exhailing a long breath as she continued to hold onto his arm. “Which way do you live?” she asked.

     “About four blocks south of here,” Castiel answered.

     “I’m three blocks north. Walk with me to Jefferson Avenue,” Meg said, dropping her hand from his arm and hitching her bag further up her shoulder. Castiel nodded in agreement and they began walking. “I know it’s none of my business, cutiepie, but hell,” she chuckled, “I’ve never been one to keep my nose out of other people’s lives.”

     “What are you talking about?” Castiel asked, glancing over at her.

     “You aren’t straight, are you?” Meg asked, trying to hide a smile. Castiel froze, leaving Meg to walk a couple paces in front of him. “Relax,” she laughed. “You’re in friendly territory. I’m not gonna lynch you or pray the gay away - whatever bullshit they try to pull in those hillbilly hometowns.”

     “Well, let me just put on my rainbow scrubs and parade down the halls of the hospital,” Castiel snapped, stopping to check traffic before they began crossing the street.

     “If you think that’ll make Dean notice you,” Meg laughed. Castiel froze in the middle of the street. Meg didn’t notice until she was walking alone. “Hey, let’s not commit suicide before we even try to get the man.” She pulled Castiel along to the other side of the street, yelling profanities at the car that almost hit him.

     “We’re not - I…He isn’t gay,” Castiel said, still reeling at the fact that someone knew about his little crush on the doctor. If Meg knew, then it must’ve been apparent to Dean. Fantastic, Castiel thought, feeling the start of hyperventilation. 

     “No, you’re right. He isn’t,” Meg smiled, sliding her arm up his back and rubbing between his shoulder blades soothingly. “But you’d be suprised by him. He’s not as close-minded as his mid-western twang lets on. And speaking as a third-party outsider from a psychological stand point?” she said quickly, a smirk playing at her lips. “He looks at you differently.”

     Castiel  looked down at her, brows furrowed. “What are you say - “

     “Time to split ways, cutie pie,” she smiled, kissing his cheek. 

     He stood there watching her go north, reeling from what he’d just been told, before heading south. 

     When he finally got to his tiny studio apartment, he’d barely pulled the key out of the lock and closed the door before he was stumbling over to his bed, dropping backpacks and files and articles of clothing on his way. By the time his head slammed into the pillow he was only clad in a pair of black boxers and not-quite-white-anymore socks. 

     He flipped over onto his back and kicked off his socks. He was tired, so tired, but after his walk with Meg, her words were on a loop in his head. Dean Winchester, the model-perfect doctor, looked at him in an apparently not casual way. 

     “Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Castiel groaned out loud, running a hand over his face. He continued, trailing his hand down his neck, down his chest to rest low on his belly. He closed his eyes, gathering and exhaling a slow deep breath. He thought about the barely there freckles he noticed on Dean’s nose his first day when he was given the quick pep talk and moved the tips of his fingers under the waist band of his boxers. He thought of the mouth that his eyes always seemed to drift down to when they were talking no matter how hard he tried and slipped his hand further, brushing over the tip of his cock. 

     Already half hard, Castiel stroked himself to thoughts of Dean until he was just on the edge of coming. He bit his lip, giving himself one good stroke just as his phone started ringing, come striping his chest.

     “Fuck!” he said, breathless. He scrambled across the bed, grabbing his jeans and shaking them to find his phone. It fell out into his hand and he almost dropped it when he saw the caller id.

     “Hello?” he said, still out of breath.

     “Uh, hey.” Dean’s voice came from the other end. There was a car horn and then the muffled sound of Dean yelling something. “You left your wallet at the bar,” he said. Castiel quickly squeezed the limp pockets of his jeans and cursed quietly. “But don’t worry, I’ll give it to you tomorrow. Just didn’t want you to freak out.”

     “Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, the name still feeling forbidden on his tongue.

     “You alright, man?” Dean laughed. “You have to run away from Masters or something?”

     “No. No, I’m fine,” Castiel answered, looking at the tacky shine on his chest. “I have to go now. Thank you for getting my wallet.”

     “Yeah. I’ll try not to max out your credit. See you tomorrow!” Dean said hurriedly, before hanging up.

     Castiel rolled his eyes, trying not to smile on his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. He didn’t trust himself not to fall asleep in the shower, so once he cleaned himself up he made his way back to his bed. This time when his head hit the pillow he fell asleep easily.

     He may or may not have dreamed of a shirtless Dr. Winchester.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?? Another chapter in less than six months?! I can't believe it either. It's really starting to pick up so I hope you like where it's going.

     Castiel was jarred awake by his phone shrilling in the silent apartment. He grappled for it while his head stayed buried into his pillow. Mumbling curses he flipped over on his side.  
     “What?” he grumbled into the phone.  
     “Cassy, did I wake you?” Balthazar asked on the other end of the line. “It’s past noon.”  
     Castiel sighed. “I work the night shift tonight at the hospital.”  
     “We need to talk, Castiel. It’s been a week since any of us have heard from you,” Balthazar said softly. Castiel understood the hurt in his brother’s voice. He didn’t typically go that long without speaking to at least one of his close siblings.   
     “I just…I’m so tired of it. You have no idea, Balthazar. I didn’t want the family to know - didn’t think they had to know. I dealt with the teasing in high school,” Castiel took a deep breath. “And then I’d have to come home to hate that was worse than what I got in school. My _family_ , Balthazar. How do you think that feels? To know your own family is so disgusted by something you can’t control.” He didn’t even realize he was crying until the tears were pooling on his arm.  
     “I know,” Balthazar said, voice cracking. “We tried so hard, Gabriel and I. And Anna. We…I’m sorry, Castiel. I just hope all these years we’ve at least taught you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’ve grown into a wonderful, kind soul and you’re going to be a great doctor.” Balthazar cleared his voice and added, “at least aim to be mediocre so my investment feels worth it.”  
     “I’ll try my best,” Castiel laughed, stretching his stiff limbs and feeling satisfied when the joints popped.  
     “Good. I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Balthazar said. Castiel could hear the sounds of his brother’s bar in the background then as if Balthazar had stepped back inside. “Give Gabriel and Anna a call soon; they miss you.”  
     “I will.”

 

     The next time Castiel woke up his phone read half past five. He was supposed to be up at five o’clock.  
     “Shit!” he yelled, scrambling out of bed and searching his unusually cluttered floor for his scrubs.   
     Locking his door, he decended the three flights of stairs in his building and jogged the six blocks to the hospital, only running into two teenage girls taking pictures of their Starbucks cups.  
     Bypassing the lockers, Castiel ran straight to the office. Throwing open the door, he started apologizing profusely for being late, but was stopped by Dean smirking, perched on the edge of their desk. He held Castiel’s wallet and reached behind himself bringing forward a cup of coffee.  
     “I figured you wouldn’t be able to get it since you didn’t have your wallet,” Dean said, handing him the drink and the wallet. “I didn’t put anything in it - didn’t know how you liked it.”  
     “Black is fine, thank you,” Castiel said, taking a sip. “And I swear, I won’t be late again -“  
     “Dude, it’s fine,” Dean said. “Drink up. It’s gonna get a little crazy tonight.”

 

     Crazy had been putting it lightly.  
     It was not even two hours into his shift and Castiel had seen more patients than he had all week. Mostly traffic accidents, minor fights, and babies with ear infections and colds.   
     When there was a lull in the ER, Dean dragged Castiel up to their office and dropped down in his chair with a heavy sigh. He threw his arm over his eyes before saying, “take the quiet moment while you can. It’ll really start to pick up closer to midnight. From then to the end of shift at four am, you’ll have all the bars and clubs letting out.”  
     Castiel sat in his chair next to Dean, angling it towards him. Dean peered out from under his arm, staring at the dark-haired man for a moment too long before covering his eyes again and lifting his work boot clad feet onto one of the arm rests of Castiel’s chair.  
     Castiel closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. “Why do you wear work boots?” he found himself asking before he could stop.  
     “Huh?” Dean grunted, shifting his feet closer to Castiel’s bicep.  
     “You wear work boots. Most of the doctors I see around here wear sneakers or dress shoes,” Castiel said, unaware he was slowly slumping in his chair, his head moving closer to the other doctor’s feet. He wiggled his own running shoes for emphasis.  
     “Habit I never broke, I guess. I worked as a mechanic back home through high school up until I went to med school. It was my uncle - well family friend’s garage, taught me everything I know about cars,” Dean said, sounding a bit wistful to Castiel’s ears.  
     “Where’s home?” Castiel asked softly, hoping to keep that remeniscent feel in the air.  
     Dean grinned from under his arm. “South Dakota by way of Kansas,” he answered, now fully resting his feet against Castiel’s shoulder.  
     “Midwestern through and through, I see,” Castiel smiled, resting his head against Dean’s boot, his eyes still closed.  
     “Damn straight,” Dean laughed, knocking Castiel’s head with his shoe jokingly. “What about you? Where are you from? Wait, wait! Let me guess.” He dropped his arm from his face and grinned at Castiel. “New Hampshire?”  
     Castiel shook his head, hiding his grin and burying himself further into Dean’s shoes and legs.  
     “Connecticut?” Head shake.  
     “I know, I know. Chicago.”  
     “No,” Castiel laughed, sitting up in his chair. “But I did my pre-med at the University of Illinois.”  
     “Well where then, smarty pants?” Dean chuckled.   
     “A little nothing town in West Virginia,” Castiel said, smile faultering just a tiny bit. He wished he had the emotional ties to his home state that he saw in Dean when he mentioned South Dakota, but being honest with himself, if Anna and Gabriel and Balthazar moved, West Virginia would just be a nightmare memory full of bullies.  
     “So, how many of your family members were miners?” Dean joked. At that moment one of his shoes slipped from the chair’s arm rest and landed in Castiel’s lap. When Dean didn’t immediately remove his foot, Castiel looked up at him.  
     “My father was actually,” Castiel said, swallowing harshly. “But he’d retired before I was even born. He and my mother were rather old by the time they had me. My brothers Uriel and Raphael went into mining too. They still work at the big one in town.”  
     Castiel was back to looking at Dean’s foot in his lap when he heard, “Paging Dr. Winchester, code green, ER Ambulance bay. Paging Dr. Winchester, code green, ER Ambulance bay.”  
     Dean was up and out of his chair, pulling Castiel along before he realized what was happening. “Why do they need you for a chemical emergency?” Castiel asked, confused as they ran down the halls, manuvering around nurses and patients.  
     “Code green is chemical at the hospitals in Cambridge,” Dean threw over his shoulder, tugging Castiel’s coat sleeve. “Out of the way! Move it, people!”  
     “Winchester, over here!” someone called from the ambulance bay. Dean and Castiel caught up to the group of paramedics and nurses, Dean gently pushing the nurses aside.   
     “What do we have?” Dean asked, going into full doctor mode. Castiel peered over Dean’s shoulder to get a look and his stomach dropped a bit. There was blood everywhere, stark against the white sheet partially covering the patient. It was one thing seeing this stuff in textbooks or old slides from the seventies, it was another thing entirely to have it right in front of your face as you run down the halls, trying to remember how to save the person’s life.  
     “Male, late teens or early twenties - we haven’t looked for i.d. yet - was found in the alley outside of that club on the corner of Essex and Harrington. Multiple lacerations to the face and arms, three broken fingers on the right hand, four broken ribs, four inch deep wound on the lower abdomen just missed vital organs,” a paramedic rattled off as they entered a trama room and quickly lifted the boy from the stretcher to a bed. “Pulse is fluctuating, breathing is assisted, but overall staying steady. Non-responsive and probable concussion.”  
     “Bar fight?” Dean asked.  
     “No - uh - hate crime,” a female paramedic said, working the breathing pump. Dean and Castiel looked down at the young white boy who - judging from what was left of his Ralph Lauren polo - lived in a rather affluant part of the city. “Witnesses said he was jumped outside of the bar by a group of guys after he apparently hit on one of their friends.”  
     People did this to boy because he was gay. At that, Castiel began losing feeling in his fingers and there was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t clear.  
     “Alright, we’ll take it from here,” Dean said, taking over for a paramedic that was staunching the bleeding on the boy’s stomach. “Dr. Milton, I’m gonna need you over here please.”  
     Castiel then realized he’d pushed himself into the corner of the room. On shaky legs, he made his way to Dean’s side as quickly as he could. He was probably a little to close to be appropriate, but at that point he couldn’t even feel his own body. The ringing was now deafening and his vision tunneling.   
     “Dr. Milton?” he faintly heard Dean say from his side.   
     Was that an arm across his shoulders? “Castiel, can you hear me?”  
     No, what was he doing? He had to help this boy. He had to focus and help this boy. He was a…a doc… “Cas. Come on. Stay with me, Cas.”   
      _Cas_. He liked that.

 

     Castiel didn’t remember falling asleep. This scratchy, kind of smelly fabric certainly wasn’t his bed either. He should have opened his eyes to figure out where he was, but he felt like complete shit and just wanted to stay oblvious a little longer.   
     When whatever he was laying on dipped under the weight of someone sitting by his feet, Castiel decided to pry open one eye. He peered down his body to find Dean. Next to his feet. At the end of a familiar couch. In the breakroom. And he looked pissed.  
     Castiel shot up on the couch almost kicking Dean off. “Dr. Winchester, I’m so sorry. I - I don’t know what happened, but I assure - “  
     “Woah! Woah. Relax,” Dean said, putting a hand to Castiel’s chest and pushing him back to the couch. Castiel could see it now, Dean wasn’t angry, he was concerned.   
     “Drink this.” Dean held a mug in front of him. Castiel took it gratefully, peering into the mug and seeing it was Sprite. He drank it down in one go. He set the mug down on the table near them and was careful to keep his gaze on his hands, avoiding looking at Dean.  
     “How’s…the boy?” Castiel asked tentatively.  
     “He’s stable - will fully recover in a month or two. The nurses took care of him,” Dean answered softly. “Now. What the hell happened back there, Cas? I mean, I know the blood can get the best of us sometimes, but that looked like something else.”  
     Castiel kept his eyes on his hands, that were clutching his pant legs in his lap. “It doesn’t matter.”  
     “It does or I wouldn’t be asking,” Dean said, grabbing one of Castiel’s hands from his lap in what seemed like a reflex. “Whatever it is - you can tell me and it won’t leave this room. Okay?”  
     Castiel snatched his hand back, suddenly angry. It would leave this room eventually, it always did. And it never ends well.   
     “What doesn’t end well?” Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Cas…”  
     “Stop.” Castiel stood from the couch, running his hands through his hair and causing it to stick out in all directions. He turned to look at Dean and said, “Just stop calling me that. It makes me think we maybe could be friends and that doesn’t help my attraction to you. And that’s bad because I’m gay - I like men. I’m just like that boy and that could’ve been me on that stretcher because homophobia still fucking exists in this world. People hate guys like me so much that they’d rather kill us than see us walking around.”  
     “I thought we were friends,” Dean said, sitting back against the couch and looking Castiel straight in the eye. “At least becoming friends.”  
     “Is that the only thing you heard out of everything I said?” Castiel said. He was so angry, so frustrated that he leaned down, towering over Dean, his face just a breath from the other man’s. “I just told you I’m gay. I just told you I find you extremely attractive and all you can focus on is whether or not I consider us friends? Are you fucking stu - “  
     And Dean’s mouth was on his before he could finish, the other man’s mouth latching onto his bottom lip. Castiel only fought back a second before he grabbed the back of Dean’s head. Dean kissed him almost hungrily, speaking fragments in between kisses. “I’m sorry. About. Whatever. You had to. Deal with. Back home. But you’re safe. Here. I promise. Cas.” Castiel paused, pulling away and staring at the beautiful green-eyed doctor.  
     “You aren’t attracted to men though,” Castiel said, voice wrecked.  
     “Not typically, no,” Dean shrugged. “I mean I can appreciate a good looking man just as much as a beautiful woman. You’re just the first guy I’ve liked enough to act on it. Do I really need a label?”  
     “I suppose not,” Castiel said, still leaning over him. “Oh and one thing, Doctor?”  
     “Yeah?”  
     “Keep calling me Cas,” Castiel smiled.  
     “C’mere,” Dean growled, pulling Castiel down onto his lap.   
     Castiel threaded his fingers through the man’s close-cropped hair, tentatively opening his mouth when he felt the tip of a tongue pressing at it. Dean flicked his tongue against Castiel’s teeth before letting his mingle with the other man’s tongue, their hips starting to rut against each other in a natural rhythm.  
     At the sound of Dean moaning, Castiel seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and with who. He pulled away from Dean’s mouth, saying, “No. W-wait.”  
     “What?” Dean asked, clearly dazed.   
     “I can’t - We can’t,” Castiel said, scrambling off of Dean’s lap. “You’re my…mentor, my co-worker. Hell, I don’t even know you that well. Not to mention - “  
     “So get to know me,” Dean interrupted, standing in front of Castiel. “Have dinner with me.”  
     Castiel blinked, shaking his head in confusion. “Huh?”  
     “Sunday. I’ll make dinner,” Dean said, a small smile hinting on his lips. “It’s always pretty slow around here on Sundays so I’m never here, just on call. So, my place. At…seven? I’ll make dinner and you can get to know me as well as you want and see if we even want to bother with this.” Dean motioned between the two of them, grinning at the sight of Castiel’s mussed hair.   
     “Okay,” Castiel said hesitantly. “That’d be okay, I suppose.”  
     “Good.” Dean gave him a light slap on the back before attempting to smooth some of his dark hair. “I’m gonna go down to the Nurse’s station, see what we’ve got going for the next couple hours. You come find me when you’re ready.”  
     As Dean left the breakroom, Castiel couldn’t help but feel like that last statement had a double meaning to it.

 

     Castiel didn’t last more than another couple hours before Dean was pushing him along and telling him to take the rest of the night off, the roller coaster of emotions having taken their toll on him. “There will be plenty more Friday night shifts for you. Go home and take care of yourself or you won’t be any use to me Monday morning,” Dean had said, clapping him on the back.   
     Before Castiel could turn the corner down the hall, Dean added, “Oh! There was a note you need to pick up in the office before you leave.” Castiel locked eyes with Dean who winked before going back to work.  
     He found a scrap of paper folded up on the edge of their shared desk in the empty office. Picking it up and reading Dean’s chicken scratch he couldn’t help but grin like a high schooler.

_**Here's my number.** _

_**Text me your favorite food...** _

_**And let me know you got home okay.** _

     Castiel got home just before midnight, keenly aware of how alone he was on the streets, locking his door and using the chain across his door for the first time since he moved in.   
     He downed a glass of milk to have something in his stomach before falling into bed. Half asleep, he jolted up and grabbed his phone from the floor, flipping it open and selecting the newest contact.

**I’M RATHER FOND OF EGGPLANT PARMESAN.**

     He wanted to stay up and wait for the reply, but his tired body had other plans and he was dead to the world within a minute.  
     There wasn’t a reply until the early hours of the morning when they’d been scheduled to get off their shift. Castiel peeled open one sleepy eye to read the new text.

**TESTING MY COOKING ABILITIES.**

**ALRITE I’LL TAKE THE CHALLENGE.**

**I LIVE OFF MAVERICK STREET ACROSS FROM THAT FANCY FRENCH CLOTHING STORE.**

     He had a date, his first real one, with the insanely good-looking doctor he works with. A mix of panic and excitement rumbled in his gut as he went back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

     “Mmm, hello?”  
     “Anna,” Castiel sighed, smiling. It really had been unnecessarily too long since he’d talked to his closest sibling.  
     “Castiel!” she said happily. “Oh, how are you? Balthazar told me he spoke to you for a minute yesterday. I hope you aren’t already wearing yourself out.”  
     “No, I’m fine. I…” Castiel cut himself off, getting up from the floor in front of his bed and sitting on the edge of the window that takes up most of the wall in his apartment. He pushed aside the white, almost transparent curtain and gazed two flights down to the busy city street.  
     “What is it?” Anna asked gently.  
     “You don’t mind that I’m - that I like men, do you?” Castiel asked, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide how shaky his voice was.  
     "Of course not, Castiel,” Anna said, sounding genuinely surprised. “You’re my baby brother and I love you to death. Michael…Well, I don’t know why he is the way he is and Uriel and Raphael have always followed whatever he said. But don’t you ever worry, your brothers and I will always be here for you.”  
     “Thank you,” Castiel said, smiling as he traced invisible doodles on his window. He rested his forehead against the window and whispered, “I have a date tomorrow.”  
     “Aww,” his sister cooed.  
     Castiel blushed and rubbed the back of his neck before adding, “…with my mentor.”  
     “Wait, you have a date with a woman?” Anna asked, confused.  
     “No! Dr. Belinda transfered last minute so they put me with Dr. Winchester,” Castiel clarifed. “A man.”  
     “Oh,” Anna said, taking a second to process the new information. “Oh! Is he cute?”  
     “Why would I be having dinner with him if he wasn’t?” Cas asked, deadpan.  
     “Alright there, sassy Cassy,” Anna mocked. “And Dr. Winchester’s first name?”  
     “Dean,” Castiel smiled.  
     “Nice and brooding,” Anna chuckled. “Well Gabriel’s up at the bar all day, but if I go up there I’ll let him know to call you.”  
     Castiel ended his call with his sister and went into his tiny kitchen to eat a bowl of cereal before he went for a run while the heat wasn’t too bad. He really needed to go grocery shopping. As he laced up his running shoes he realized he hadn’t gone grocery shopping since he moved to Boston, his diet consisting of microwave meals and the odd fruit or vegetable he could snag from Quincy Market when he was out.  
     He left his apartment with the determination to get his life in order. He was closing in on thirty years old and still lived like he was an undergrad.

     Just as he was finding his pace in his run through the park, he felt his phone vibrate. He grabbed it, coming to a stop in front of a bench and collapsing on it. He couldn’t help but grin as he read the one word message.

**DEAN WINCHESTER: HEY**   
**YOU: HELLO, DEAN.**   
**DEAN WINCHESTER: IM REALLY LOOKI**   
**DEAN WINCHESTER: DAMMIT *LOOKING FORWARD TO TOMORROW NIGHT**   
**YOU: SO AM I**   
**DEAN WINCHESTER: GOOD. WELL ENJOY YOUR DAY OFF**   
**YOU: YOU AS WELL, DEAN.**

     The rest of Castiel’s run was spent trying, in vain, to get rid of the huge smile on his face. He was pretty sure it didn’t leave the entire day.  
     Gabriel didn’t call him until late in the evening when he’d snagged a minute to go out back behind the bar. It was a quick call, just checking up on each other and letting them know they missed each other.  
     By the afternoon of the next day, Castiel was so on edge he couldn’t sit still for more than ten seconds. So he decided to go for another run on a different route. Instead of going for the direction of his usual park he went further into the city. It started raining not long into his run, but Castiel didn’t mind.  
     By the time he found himself on Mavrick Street it was raining hard, sweat and rain water mixed on his face. As if his body weren’t under his own control he continued down until he stood in front of the duplex across from the French store. It wasn’t particularly fancy like he imagined a doctor would live in, but if the building was any indication, it wasn’t lacking in space either.  
     Castiel took the short stack of stairs to the front door and scanned the buzzer for Dean’s intercom. He pressed the black button next to the nameplate that read D & S Winchester.  
     S?  
     Dean hadn’t mentioned a roommate. Former girlfriend? Was he just the rebound to a newly single, well-off, Ken doll doctor?  
     Castiel took a deep breath as the intercom sizzled. “Winchester,” Dean’s gruff voice filled the alcove.  
     “U-Uh,” Castiel took another deep breath. “It’s me - Castiel. It’s Castiel.”  
     A long pause. Castiel almost turned to leave when the intercom crackled again.  
     “Wow, you really were looking forward to tonight,” Dean chuckled. “Come on up, man. I’m on the second floor.” Castiel grabbed the door as it unlocked. Having the entire second floor, Castiel steeled himself for this expensive, rich man’s mecca of an apartment as he knocked on the door.  
     The door cracked open and Dean’s smiling face appeared. “Hey, Cas,” Dean said softly, leaning his head against the door. “You’re all wet. Y’run all the way here in the rain to see me?”  
     “Would you believe me if I said I was just passing by?” Castiel smirked, tugging at the shirt clinging to his stomach.  
     “No,” Dean laughed, opening the door all the way. “Come in already, before you catch a cold.”  
     Castiel braced himself and stepped inside. The icy blast of central AC - a rare thing in the Boston area - caught him off guard. As he surveyed the living room and kitchen, the only upscale amenities he noticed were a few nice kitchen appliances. The burnt orange couch and puke green lazy-boy looked well loved just like the faded gray bean bag chair next to a thin, floor-to-ceiling bookcase.  
     “Sorry, I’ll turn it up. I just hate being hot,” Dean said as Castiel shivered. Castiel stood in the middle of Dean’s living room awkwardly, dripping on the rug as Dean cut the air off and motioned for Castiel to follow him down the hallway. “I’ve got some clothes you can change into; they’ll probably be a little big but we’ll just be hanging around the house.”  
     Dean flicked on the light in an almost bare room. It’s walls were off-white and naked. There was a small dresser with socks and shirts peeking out from the drawers, and a simple bed with black sheets and a white comforter that seemed barely big enough for Dean’s bulky frame. After Castiel stared at the room for a full minute, Dean cleared his throat to catch his attention.  
     “I’m rarely home long enough to get a few hours sleep,” he said, explaining. He shrugged, looking around the room himself as if it wasn’t his. “I can’t bring myself to spend a lot to make it homey.” Castiel stared at the doctor; it was like he was completely detached from this place, like there was nothing here that he loved.  
     Castiel involuntarily shivered and Dean ended the tense moment, turning to the dresser and yanking out a pair gray sweat pants. He tossed them to Castiel and held up a red USD baseball sweatshirt.  
     “You need this or you good with just a tshirt?” Dean asked.  
     Castiel shook his head. “Tshirt will be fine,” he said, stripping off his soaked running shorts and shirt. He rubbed the fabric of his boxers. They too were completely drenched.  
     Dean tossed a blue well-worn Red Sox shirt to him and froze at the site of Castiel in only his wet boxers. Castiel watched curiously as Dean let his eyes rake over his body slowly, speding extra time on his taunt abdomen. Castiel put the shirt on and let it drop slowly over his stomach, causing Dean to snap to and meet his eyes. Castiel couldn’t help the tiny grin that slipped.  
     “I - uh - only where boxer briefs,” Dean said in a low voice. He held up a pair of black underwear with an almost goofy grin on his face. Castiel chuckled and grabbed the underwear, ushering Dean out of the room and closing the door between them.  
     “First time over here and already getting pushy!” Dean called through the door.  
     “You were moving too slow!” Castiel laughed, trying to balanced as he put on the rest of the borrowed clothing. “I was cold.” As he was bending back up, Castiel’s nose bushed against the shirt and he caught Dean’s scent - not the scent he usually had at the hospital, the strong smell of hand sanitizer and bleach - but the real scent of Dean Winchester. It smelled like cheap detergent at first, but the longer he inhaled the more he started to smell something woodsy and a hint of whiskey. Woods and whiskey, he liked it.  
     Castiel gathered up his clothes and opened the door, half expecting Dean to still be standing there. He was only slightly disappointed when he wasn’t, but perked up when he heard noise from the front of the apartment in the kitchen. He peeked around the corner to see Dean spreading out the ingredients for dinner across the kitchen counter.  
     “You don’t mind if we eat now, do you?” Dean asked without looking up. “I’m actually pretty hungry.”  
     Castiel shook his head, then added, “no, I don’t. I’m just going to, uh, put my clothes over here.” He dropped his wet pile of clothes onto his sneakers by the front door.  
     “C’mere,” Dean said, waving him over with a kitchen knife and beginning to slice up the eggplant. “You know how to cook?” he asked, closing the distance Castiel had left between them, his forearm brushing against Castiel’s as he continued prepping the food.  
     “Just the basics,” Castiel answered, revelling in the feel of Dean’s skin against his. “My sister did most of the cooking growing up.”  
     “You have a sister,” Dean smiled.  
     “Anna,” Castiel said fondly. “And five brothers.”  
     Dean let out a low whistle. “Here you get the water boiling,” he said, taking Castiel by the shoulders and moving him to the stove on the otherside of him. Leaving a hand on one of Castiel’s shoulders, he said, “You’re a lot more likeable outside of the hospital.”  
     Castiel chuckled. “I’m just worried about doing everything correctly and remembering the important things. I get worked up easily, I can’t help it. You and your underwear model face don’t help matters.”  
     “My underwear model face?” Dean gwaffed. “Tell me, have you seen your face before? You’re hot.” He bumped his hip against Castiel’s hip with a wink before going slightly serious. “But, honestly, you have nothing to worry about. You know what you’re doing. You have great potential as a doctor. Just relax. I believe in ya, Cas.”  
     After the water was boiling, Dean had banished Castiel from the kitchen with a beer, telling him to pick a DVD from the rather large collection in the living room. Once he’d made his pick, Castiel sat back on the couch nursing his beer and glancing at Dean every few seconds. It was quite adorable how concentrated he was on cooking the dinner.  
     When everything was cooked and dished out, Dean brought their plates into the living room and plopped down next to Castiel on the couch; and if he was slightly closer than need be, Castiel didn’t mind.  
     “So what’d you pick?” Dean asked, cracking open a beer. “Need me to get yours?”  
     Castiel nodded and handed Dean his beer. “Cool Hand Luke,” Castiel answered. “It’s one of my favorites.”  
     “Ah, good ole Paul Newman. You just get better and better,” Dean winked, starting up the movie.  
     Half way through the film Castiel had managed to burrow himself into Dean’s side, head almost in his lap with Dean stroking his hair as he talked about growing up in Kansas before his mother died, how his dad packed he and his brother - Sam, the S on the name plate, Castiel tried not to blush at his earlier assumption - and took them driving across the country as they watched him mentally breakdown. He learned that Dean’s Uncle Bobby had asked his father to let him take care of the boys when Dean was a sophmore in high school.  
     “I was breath away from failing out of school - and Bobby,” Dean laughed admiringly. “He gave me a good kick in the ass and somehow I ended up graduating in the top ten percent of my class in high school with a scholarship to USD.”  
     “And your brother?” Castiel asked, playing with a loose thread on Dean’s jeans.  
     “Got into fucking _Standford_ ,” Dean answered proudly. “There was never any worry about him. He got into the law school there too.”  
     “So he lives here?” Castiel asked. He felt Dean stiffen under him and looked up to see Dean’s brow furrowed, almost pained. “I saw the ’S’ on the nameplate outside, s-so I thought…”  
     “No, yeah. He’s just…on a long vacation right now. Taking a break from all those long lawyer hours and shit, ya know,” Dean laughed awkwardly. Clearly there was something Dean didn’t want to talk about and Castiel wasn’t going to push so early on. He wasn’t one to share much either. Which is why he cringed when Dean asked him about his childhood.  
     Castiel shrugged. “It wasn’t the best, but who’s is?”  
     “Don’t want to share right now. I get it,” Dean said, kissing the top of Castiel’s messy hair. “You need a fucking haircut, man. You’re a doctor not a dirty hippie.” Castiel smacked him in the gut as they settled in to finish the movie.

     Castiel jerked awake to the shrill ring of a cell phone. He looked around the dark room, trying to get his barings and remember where he was when Dean stirred under him. Oh right, he thought.  
     They’d fallen asleep during the last half of the movie, the DVD menu repeating on the tv screen. They’d ended up with Dean stretched out on the slightly too small couch and Castiel stuffed between him and the back of the couch.  
     “Dean,” Castiel whispered hoarsly. He shook Dean, who only groaned and held Castiel tighter to his side. “Dean, your phone.”  
     Castiel reached across him and grappled for the still ringing phone. He looked at the caller i.d. and read Meg Masters and that it was almost midnight. “Dean, it’s Meg calling,” Castiel said, waving the phone in his face.  
     “What…” Dean mumbled, still half asleep.  
     “Meg is calling you. Dr. Masters?” Castiel said. Dean bolted upright, almost knocking Castiel off of the couch as he grabbed the phone from him.  
     “Masters? What is it? What’s wrong?” Dean answered the phone. He held up a finger to Castiel as he walked down the hallway to his room. What was going on? Castiel was a resident; why couldn’t he know what was going on? If it was something serious at the hospital, he should know about it.  
     “Dean?” Castiel called down the hallway. “Dean, what is it?” He knocked on the door only to have Dean open it and almost run him over trying to leave. “Hey!” he called angrily, grabbing Dean’s arm just as he opened the front door. “What’s wrong? Is it something at the hospital?”  
     Dean yanked his arm out of Castiel’s grip before plastering a weak smile on his face. “Everything’s fine, man. Just some business I gotta take care of. I’ll be back in a few hours. Just stay here - you can have my bed.”  
     “I don’t want your bed, I want to go with - “ The door slammed shut before Castiel could finish, leaving him alone in Dean’s dark apartment. “Mother _fucker_ ,” he mumbled standing there for a minute or two before stalking off to Dean’s room. He grabbed the first pair of shoes he saw off of the floor and shoved his feet into them. Locking the door behind himself, Castiel made his way to the hospital intent on finding out what was going on.  
     He assumed Dean had taken a taxi since he was nowhere to be found. Castiel took off running in the direction of the hospital, thanking God it was closer than his place was.  
     Out of breath and still angry, Castiel burst into the ER and went straight for the nurse’s station. Slamming his hands on the counter top, he growled, “Dr. Winchester - where’d he go?”  
     The silver haired nurse looked him over slowly and went back to shuffling papers before answering, “to psychiatric care. And learn some manners before you bust into the ER, Dr. Milton.”  
     Castiel mumbled a sorry and took off in the direction of the psychiatric unit one floor up.  
     “Dean?” he called, looking around a corner. He peered into an empty patient room. “Dean?” He called his name a third time, rounding into another hallway when he found Dean and Meg huddled in front of a patient room, Dean gesturing somewhat angrily.  
     “It’s clearly not helping him, Masters. If I take him home I can take care of him,” Dean was saying.  
     “Don’t be an overly-attached idiot, Dean. He is getting better,” Meg explained. “Sam is a thousand times better than when you dropped him in here -“  
     “I did not drop him in here. You offered to help - “  
     “Castiel?” Meg interrupted, peering over Dean’s shoulder. Dean whirled around and Castiel had to keep himself from cowering and backing away.  
     “What the fuck?” Dean growled. “I told you to stay at my place, Cas.”  
     “You place?” Meg laughed.  
     “Not now, Meg,” Dean said, turning back to her. “Anything like this again and I’m pulling him out of here. Let’s go, Cas.” Dean took him by the arm and pulled him along, out of the psychiatric ward.  
     “Dean, stop,” Castiel said, pulling himself free and standing just outside the doors to the ward. “What’s going on? She said Sam. Your brother? Your brother is in there?”  
     “I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean mumbled, jingling a set of car keys in his hand. “Let’s just go. I’m tired.”  
     Castiel stopped him with a gentle hand on his bicep. “I was supposed to get to know you tonight,” he said softly. “I’d say this is definitely something I should know about if we’re going to spend time together.”  
     “Not here,” Dean said, motioning for Castiel to follow him out of the hospital. They made their way to the parking garage and over to the most beautiful car Castiel had ever seen.  
     “This…” Castiel realized his mouth was hanging open. “ _This_ is your car?”  
     “Sixty-seven Impala,” Dean said proudly. “Get in.”  
     It was deafingly quiet in the Impala on the way back to Dean’s and terribly awkward on the walk up and into the apartment. Castiel stood there in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do while Dean shucked off his shoes and tossed his car keys onto the coffee table in front of the couch.  
     “You wanna talk about this in here or what?” Dean asked, not making eye contact.  
     Castiel shrugged. “Wherever you want to,” he answered.  
     “Bedroom,” Dean said gruffly. “I wanna be able to pass out after we talk. We have to be back at the hospital in less than four hours.”  
     They walked to Dean’s bedroom in strained silence, Dean ushering Castiel in with a hand at his back. Dean walked over to his bed, shedding clothing until he was only in his boxer briefs and fell onto the bed, flipping over onto his back. “What do you want to know?” Dean asked, folding his arms behind his head on a pillow.  
     “The whole thing,” Castiel answered before he could stop himself. He stayed backed up against the dresser near the foot of Dean’s bed, unwilling to crowd Dean while they talked about this.  
     “H-he really did go to Stanford,” Dean started, closing his eyes and crossing his ankles. “Really got into their law school.” He sighed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. Castiel stayed where he was, attention focused on every moment of Dean’s. “That mental break my dad had? He thought some demon killed my mom. It was a fucking house fire from some faulty electrical wiring in the walls, but he just snapped when she died. So he drove us around the country hunting down this imaginary killer and that’s what my brother grew up with; a nutcase of a father. I mean don’t get me wrong, he loved us…a lot, but there’s only so much good parenting you can get from a man who’s gone crazy.”  
     Castiel pretended not to notice the tear making a track down Dean’s cheek.  
     “So the second he could, Sam got out of there - went out to California; guess he thought he could run from it. He was doing great, was dating this girl named Jessica - pretty sure he was gonna marry her. She died the summer before he was supposed to start law school - burglary gone wrong. He was wrecked after it for a long time and I almost dropped out in my last year to go get him, but he started going on the up and up; wasn’t hard to fool me from across the country. He got a job doing who knows what and we went back to normal,” Dean explained. “I was about to start my residency when I decided to enlist in the military - “  
     “You were in the military?” Castiel interrupted.  
     “Officer in the Marines,” Dean said. “I was on my second tour in Iraq when I got a letter that Sam had been busted with cocaine with his girlfriend, Ruby. Fucking cocaine! They sent him up to Bobby’s while I finished my tour, I still had three months left.”  
     When Dean didn’t continue Castiel waited a minute to check that he hadn’t gone to sleep. “And…?” he pushed.  
     “And that’s when I got to experience the Winchester psychotic break,” Dean said roughly. Dean opened his eyes, but focused them on the wall opposite Castiel. He took that as his queue to move. Castiel moved to the edge of Dean’s bed and sat down. “My company had a mission the next day - invade some little town that had absolutely nothing to do with the bullshit war we were fighting, except the rebels were a step ahead and had the place infiltrated without us knowing. We run into the village no guns blazing, not expecting a threat and they wholly took advantage. Killed my partner, Benny - best friend I’d ever had and been by me since basic.”  
Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s leg, trying to comfort him.

     “What happened after that?” He stroked his thumb across Dean’s shin.

     “They sent me back with Benny’s body,” Dean said, sounding far away. “Guess they knew what was coming.” Dean cleared his throat, dropping one of his arms to the bed. Castiel pushed further onto the bed and after a second felt the tips of Dean’s fingers graze the bit of skin exposed between his shirt and pants. Dean continued, “We had the funeral and they gave me his flag since he didn’t have any family to speak of. I still have it somewhere in the back of the closet. Anyway, I got back into the swing of things, getting ready to start up my residency and…” Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The PTSD hit me. I was on a plane back to South Dakota to pick up Sam and one minute I’m sitting there humming some Metallica while this kid is kicking my seat and the next I’m back in that little fucking village in Iraq with Benny. It took two Air Marshalls and a civilian to subdue me and get me off the plane when it got to Sioux Falls.”  
     Dean pushed his hand further up Castiel’s back, scratching lightly. “Thankfully they had mercy on a war vet and didn’t label me a terrorist - would’ve been too ironic, I suppose,” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Sam and I spent a month out there with Bobby and I went back to Boston to finally do my residency.”  
     “How’d Sam end up in…with Meg?” Castiel asked, shivering at the feel of Dean’s blunt nails running across his skin.  
     “He got clean in Sioux Falls and decided to come live with me here,” Dean said. “But last year Ruby found him somehow, got him hooked again, this time on more than just cocaine and he started having hallucinations. We got him clean again, but they weren’t stopping. Kicker was, he kept hallucinating about our mom and demons.” Dean sunk further into the bed, keeping his hand on Castiel’s back. “I asked Meg for advice and she said to bring him to her, she’d take care of him personally. He was doing better up until a month ago. The hallucinations got stronger. My…my brother is the least violent person I’ve ever met - I mean he knows how to fight, but he’d rather talk it out and give you a hug than hit you, but tonight he just up and punched one of the orderlies and started freaking out, demanding to know where I was and begging to go home to Kansas.”  
     Castiel turned to look Dean head on. “Dean, I’m _so_ sorry. I’m sorry any of that happened to you.”  
     “I just,” Dean bit his lip in an attempt to hold back the tears, but it was no use. “I just want to make my brother better,” he cried.  
     “Dean,” Castiel sighed, leaning down to put his hand to Dean’s scruffy cheek. Dean immediately grabbed his arm, pulling him down onto the bed and into his side.  
     It didn’t take long for Dean to fall asleep, but Castiel’s mind fought sleep the whole night, eventually leaving him to count the number of sirens that went off - twelve - and the number of drunken curses yelled out - eighty seven - as he carded his fingers through Dean’s short hair until the sun started coming up.  
Dean woke with a jolt to an empty bed when his alarm sounded 4am. His hand grappled at empty sheets, vainly searching for a note or something. He’d gone a done it now - shared his fucked up past and mental state and ran off this awesome guy that he has to work with. Fucking smart thinking there, he scolded himself as he crawled out of bed to get ready for work.


	7. ATTENTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **this isn't a new chapter but just take a second to read it.

Okay so I won't lie, I totally abandoned this fic - even though I seriously tried so many times to pick it back up after not participating in the fandom anymore - but I've actually started picking it back up. I'd really like to finish it and maybe even write some more Destiel AU's (maybe.)

I'm not sure when I'll finish the next chapter - maybe this week (i doubt it) maybe next month (probably, let's be real), but it will be posted, I just have to remember plot points and all that shit.

So consider this fic a WIP again.

If you even care to still read it - I totally understand if you've completely lost interest in this story.

Thanks for the patience and support!

-CK


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and we're back!

            Castiel stopped by his apartment long enough to change and grab a sad excuse for breakfast before rushing to the hospital. He wasn’t due in for another two hours, but he had some business to attend to without Dean breathing down his neck.

            He stopped in the office to pick up his white coat and badge before taking the elevator to the psychiatric wing of the hospital. He wasn’t sure if he should go to Meg or leave her out of his – no doubt _stupid_ – adventure, but didn’t get a choice when he rounded the corner into the wing and ran right into a nurse…who was going over a chart with Meg Masters.

            “Milton,” Meg purred, not seeming at all surprised to see him in this part of the hospital.

            “Me – err – Dr. Masters,” Castiel straightened up. “Could I speak with you alone for a minute?”

            Meg chuckled before ushering the nurse on. “Dean doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

            “What? Of course he does. W-why wouldn’t he?” Castiel stammered, adjusting his coat nervously. Meg raised her eyebrow high. “No, he doesn’t. I just…I feel like I need to talk to him – to Sam.”

            “Look” Meg sighed, leaning against the wall next to her. “As much as I thoroughly enjoy pissing off Dean Winchester he would be absolutely livid if he found out I let you see Sam without him.”

            “So he won’t find out,” Castiel shrugged. He looked at her head-on and turned on his doe-eyed charm. “Please, Meg. For your cutie pie?”

            Meg barked out a surprised laugh. “Come on,” she grabbed his arm, dragging him past the nurse’s station towards a section of patient rooms. “You get twenty minutes. If you upset him, you’re out and you aren’t coming back.”

            “Understood” Castiel said as they came to a closed door. The dry erase board next to it read:

 

_Winchester, Sam_

_P.D., SCHP._

_Attn: Dr. M. Masters, M.D._

_Announce upon entrance - mandatory._

            “Panic Disorder and mild Schizophrenia,” Meg explained, knocking on the door. A mumbled greeting came from behind the door. “It’s just like dealing with patients in the ER – calm voice, slow movements, the usual. Don’t bring up any touchy subjects, he’ll do that for you when he’s ready.”

            She opened the door to a typical hospital room, a single bed with a large open window and a man sitting by it. He was clearly tall, his limbs expertly folded under himself. His hair was shaggy and grazing his shoulders; Castiel was sure it bugged Dean.

            “Hey, Sam,” Meg said, pulling Castiel into the room with her. “I have a visitor for you if you feel up to it.” Sam turned to face them. Castiel wasn’t expecting such a kind expression, but recalled how Dean spoke of his little brother. “This is Dr. Milton; he works with Dean down in the ER.”

            At the mention of Dean, Sam’s face softened even more, a smile on his lips. “Hey,” Sam smiled, relaxing. “What can I do for you?”

            Meg slipped out of the room as Castiel made his way over to the window. He sat across from Sam, both looking out the window at the busy streets below. “I’m…sort of – I’m friends with your brother and –”

            “You’re seeing each other,” Sam interrupted, smirking. “He told me about you after your first day here.”

            “Really?” Castiel asked, facing Sam now.

            “Yeah,” Sam laughed, getting up and moving to sit on the bed opposite him. “I’ve never seen him so into someone. It was kind of adorable.”

            Castiel involuntarily blushed.

            “But why are you here? Because of last night?” Sam asked.

            “Yes,” Castiel answered truthfully. “I really like Dean, so I figured I should get to know his brother. That’s really all I want to do – just talk.”

           

            An hour later, Castiel looked up at the clock on the wall and shot up, interrupting Sam’s story about Dean, pink panties, and some girl named Rhonda. “Shit! I was supposed to be in the ER fifteen minutes ago.”

            “Just give Dean some puppy dog eyes, usually works for me,” Sam laughed, running a hand through his hair.

            Castiel rolled his eyes and smoothed a hand down his coat. “I’d like to come by again if that’s okay. Sometime this week?”

            “I’ll have to check my schedule, but I think I’m free,” Sam deadpanned.

            “I had my doubts,” Castiel shook his head, opening the door. “But after that, you are definitely Dean Winchester’s brother.”

            Sam winked as Castiel left the room.

            Castiel made it to the office just as Dean did, almost colliding with him. He grabbed the strap of Dean’s messenger bag as it slid off his shoulder. “Sorry, I swear to God, I will not be late the rest of the month.”

            Dean shrugged, opening the door to the office for them. “You realize my place is closer to the hospital? I mean if you didn’t want to stay over you could’ve just said. It’s not like I would have gotten my feelings hurt like some chick,” he said, dropping his stuff on his desk.

            Castiel froze, hands in his own bag on the desk. He looked up at Dean, wide-eyed, “No that – that wasn’t it at all, Dean. I just had some things to deal with before work. You went through a lot last night, I just wanted to let you sleep.”

            Dean’s face flushed a deep scarlet. “Well…that was embarrassing,” he said, running a hand down his deep purple tie.

            Castiel tried to hold back his smiled and failed miserably. “You thought I wasn’t interested in you anymore,” he laughed.

            “Shut the fuck up, Milton,” Dean said, blushing harder. “You’re actually gonna be working with Phillips in pediatric oncology today.”

            Castiel felt his heart sink a little. “Why?” he asked, trying not to sound noticeably upset about it.

            “It’s typical,” Dean said, shuffling papers. “They like the doctors to be well-rounded. You’ll spend a couple days a month in different specializations for like three months. Don’t worry, I won’t let them take you away.”

            Castiel blushed as Dean slipped behind him, breath tickling his ear. He felt Dean’s lips graze his ear as he said in a low voice, “You can’t get rid of me now.”

            “I wouldn’t want to,” Castiel breathed.

            Dean slapped his ass and moved back behind his desk. “I’m with a doctor…Rosen,” he said, checking his phone. “Says she went to Harvard medical. You know her?”

            “Um, yeah, I do,” Castiel said, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

            “She’s chill right? I can’t deal with hyper today.”

            “Oh, yeah. Totally chill.”

 

            By lunch, Castiel was begrudgingly starting to appreciate the break from the hectic trauma bay, though his spirit took a huge hit seeing children suffering as much as they were. It was definitely the right place for Becky and her upbeat personality.

            Speaking of…

            Hands slammed down on the cafeteria table as Castiel went to take a bite of his chef salad. He slowly looked up, mouth still open, to see Dean standing over him.

            “Totally. Not. Chill, dude,” Dean gritted through his teeth.

            “I’m so sorry,” Castiel said, trying in vain not to laugh. He failed miserably. “Where is she?” He looked over Dean’s tense shoulder to see Becky rounding the corner into the cafeteria.

            “I tried to lose her back there,” Dean said, waving his hand distractedly, still looking at Castiel. “I had to cut through post-op to drop her.”

            “Well, you should have tried harder,” Castiel smiled, finally taking a bite of his salad.

            Just then Becky spotted them.

            “Dr. Winchester!” she yelled across the room, waving at them. “I thought I’d lost you!” She quickly crossed the room, bumping into people without even realizing. “Oh, Castiel!”

            Castiel got up to hug her and kiss her on the cheek. “How are you liking working with my mentor so far?” he asked, winking at Dean over her shoulder.

            “Oh…” she said breathlessly, bringing her hands up to cover her smile. “You didn’t tell me how…rugged and… _hot_ he is!” To bring home her point, Becky slid her hand down Dean’s back and gave his ass a hard squeeze.

            “HEY - WOAH!” Dean and Castiel yelped. Dean jumped away and over to Castiel’s side who went to possessively push Becky’s hand away.

            “I _knew_ it!” Becky whispered, eyes glittering. “I knew you had to be into each other.”

            “Becky…” Castiel warned.

            “Not to worry!” Becky crossed her heart. “Who do I have to tell anyway? Kids don’t care about two doctors dating.”

            “Keep your trap shut, Rosen,” Dean growled, not very threatening.

            “God, you guys are cute together. I better get an invitation to the wedding,” Becky giggled, traipsing out of the cafeteria.

            “Does she have a fucking off button?” Dean mumbled, sitting down across from Castiel and stealing a bite of his salad.

            “Hey!” Castiel tried to grab the fork out of Dean’s mouth, but Dean swatted his hand away.

            “Lay off,” Dean said with a mouthful. “I’ll share a piece of blackberry pie with you if you come over to my place after work…and stay.”

            “Okay,” Castiel agreed easily.

            “Until I wake up,” Dean added.

            “I don’t need pie to stay with you,” Castiel laughed, rolling his eyes. “But I do need to get back to work. I’ll be at your place by seven.” He pushed his lunch across the table to Dean. “Eat something other than pie for once.”

            "Yes, dear," Dean chimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so dialogue-heavy if that isn't your thing, I just needed to get back into it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for slight sexual content, I guess?

Castiel made it to Dean’s apartment only ten minutes late after his shift. He ran the last block, bruising his hip as his messenger bag banged against it repeatedly. Breathless, he pressed the buzzer for Dean’s apartment…and nothing. He checked his phone to make sure he wasn’t somehow early and sent Dean a text asking where he was.

**_BE THERE IN TEN._ **

     Castiel sighed, sliding down the front door to sit. He was tired and emotionally drained. The first half of his shift had been pleasant, if not enjoyable, goofing around the children, not having to deal with drunks, druggies, or bleeding wounds. The second half took a pretty twisted turn when one of the kids went code blue. A redheaded little boy with a collection of frog stuffed animals around his bed; Castiel had taken to his sweet-nature immediately. The boy – Travis, he thought was his name – was four days shy of his eighth birthday.

     But his Leukemia was strong than his frail little body after three years of fighting it.

     Castiel had spent ten minutes straight attempting to revive him and had to be pulled away by two nurses and a doctor.

     He felt the hot prick of tears forming when Dean pulled up in his Impala, getting out with a big smile on his face.

     “Sorry, I wanted to check on Sam before I left, just make sure he was solid after last night,” he said, leaning against the concrete wall that acted as a privacy fence for part of the building. One good look at Castiel and his smile dropped. “Cas?” he ventured.

     Without his permission, Castiel’s throat hiccupped and he gave a small cry, bending his head to his knees and wrapping his arms around them as he began to cry.

     “Cas,” Dean whispered, climbing the couple steps to his partner. He pulled on Castiel’s arm until he looked up. “Come on, come inside.”

     Castiel nodded and stood, letting Dean lead him inside and upstairs to his apartment. As soon as they stepped through the front door, Dean closed it with his foot, pulling Castiel into an almost suffocating hug.

     Dean rested his chin on Castiel’s shoulder, whispering, “What’s wrong, Cas? Tell me.”

     Castiel made what he was sure was a horribly unattractive noise through his nose and tucked his head into Dean’s neck. “Maybe I’m not cut out to be a doctor,” he said, muffled.

     “Why would you say that?” Dean asked.

     “This kid coded today and I couldn’t handle it,” Castiel cried. “And I couldn’t handle it when that guy came in the ER. All this money my family didn’t have, all this time wasted, for what –”

     “Shut up,” Dean interrupted.

     Castiel looked up at his, his wet face confused. “Excuse me?”

     “Shut the fuck up,” Dean said, bringing his hands to either side of Castiel’s face. “You’ve not even been in residency a month, alright? You’re doing fine. I wouldn’t lie to you. Besides your…propensity to be late, you’re doing just fine. Every doctor – every single fucking doctor has been where you are. We’ve all had to learn to put a wall up to our emotions and get used to the shit you’re going to have to deal with for the rest of your career, but we did it and you’re going to do it and you’re going to help people, Cas. That’s why you wanted to be a doctor, right?”

     Castiel nodded, eyes closed.

     “Then stop worrying,” Dean whispered, kissing him lightly on the lips. “And talk to me when you need to. I feel like I’m telling you all my secrets and I don’t know shit about you.”

     “Homophobic,” Castiel mumbled.

     “What?”

     “My brothers,” Castiel said. “They’re homophobic. That’s why I don’t like speaking about my family. Gabriel and Balthazar aren’t and neither is Anna, but the others – Michael and Raphael and Uriel - they hate me because I’m gay.”

     Dean took Castiel’s hand and led him to the couch. Castiel’s heart began to beat rapidly, realizing he was going to actually have to talk about his family and childhood after his parents died, things he’d never talked to anyone about. But Dean was right, he was learning more and more about him and Castiel’s life was still in shadow, like he never really came out at all. He was sick of his brothers having this sort of power over his life.

     Castiel turned and laid his head in Dean’s lap so he was looking up at him. Dean’s hand went to Castiel’s hair and he ran his fingers through it.

     “I was sixteen when I first acted on my sexuality,” Castiel started. “His name was Aaron and we’d been friends since the third grade. He was sleeping over at my house and we were watching a movie in the living room alone – it was Dumb and Dumber or something stupid like that – and I got up the nerve to kiss him. I was waiting for him to push me away or hit me or yell, but he just kissed me back. Somehow I’d found the one other homosexual boy in the state of West Virginia.” Castiel chanced and look at Dean. His gaze was zoned out, but he was clearly listening. Castiel went back to his story.

     “We had a lot more sleepovers after that. In retrospect, I think Anna always knew, maybe Balthazar too. Michael was always on base and Uriel and Raphael went to work before the sun was up so they were never there to notice anything. Gabe caught us making out in the kitchen one day after school; told Anna about it and sat us all down to talk about it. Balthazar didn’t give a shit, just told me to use protection and don’t be too out until I left West Virginia, then he was out the door.”

     “Anna and…Gabe? They weren’t okay with it?” Dean spoke for the first time in what felt like hours. He looked down at Castiel, brushing hair from his forehead.

     “No, they were. I still suspect Balthazar may be fluid in his sexuality,” Castiel answered. He took one of Dean’s hands in both of his, tracing the lines in his palm, the callouses from years of automotive work a stark contrast to his own smooth ones. “They were afraid for me. Even now Appalachia isn’t keen on gays. I think they figured our brothers would accept it and watch out for me. The family was fairly religious when my parents were alive – southern Baptist – but taught us to be accepting of everyone and take what the pastor said with a grain of salt. Michael never did though, he soaked up what the right-winged Christians said; Uriel and Raphael looked up to him so they did what he did, believed what he believed.

     “We didn’t keep it secret for long. Aaron had stayed over the night of my fifteenth birthday. Everyone had gone to bed by the time Michael got home. He’d never really been one for celebrating birthdays before, but for some reason he’d gotten me a card on his way home…and came into my room to leave it on my desk for me. Aaron and I were asleep in bed – together – and not in a platonic way.

     “Michael threw him out of the bed and told him to go home. He called Aaron’s mother and told her. His parents sent him to one of those ‘Pray the Gay Away’ camps off some island in Florida. He ended up killing himself when we were eighteen and his parents wouldn’t allow me at his funeral.

     “All I got was the shit beat out of me by three of my older brothers in my back yard at three in the morning and threatened to never sin in our parents’ home again or I’d regret it,” Castiel finished, grunting as he got up to sit next to Dean.

     After what was growing to be an awkward silence, Dean let out a long breath. He slung an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You’re brothers sound like fucking dickbags and I wish you’d never had to go through that. No one deserves it, but especially not you.”

     “Thank you,” Castiel said softly. After a moment, he asked, “So, any homosexual experiences you’d care to share?”

     “Yep, I’m gonna need alcohol for the rest of this conversation,” Dean said, jumping up and heading for the kitchen. “You like whiskey?”

     “Straight from the bottle?”

     “Man after my own heart,” Dean said wistfully, putting his hand to his heart.

 

 

     “Aw no!” Castiel laughed, holding onto his stomach, muscles sore from laugh for the last three hours.

     “I swear to God!” Dean laughed, giving the Boy Scout salute. “Said it was the best hand job of his life!”

     Castiel turned his head to the side to look at Dean. They’d ended up on the floor of the living room with their bare feet propped up on the windowsill. Castiel hiccupped and passed the practically empty bottle of Jim Beam to Dean. As he took the last swig Castiel leaned over and nipped Dean’s scruffy jaw.

     “You should shave every once in a while,” he mumbled, swiping his tongue across the stubble.

     “Look who’s talkin’,” Dean slurred, running his hand along Castiel’s equally stubbly jaw.

     “You won’t be able to soon,” Castiel said, dragging his teeth along Dean’s chin.

     Dean shivered and failed to suppress a groan. “You’re pretty confident with some booze in you – Nnng, Christ!” he hissed as Castiel palmed his jean-covered groin. He put his hand over Castiel’s, grinding down harder. As he started thrusting his hips up, Castiel slipped his hand down Dean’s jeans, trying to work past his boxers.

     “Can you…take…your stupid…fucking…pants off?” Castiel said in between kisses to Dean’s neck.

     “Sir, yes sir,” Dean said, knocking Castiel’s hand away and ripping his jeans and boxers off with lightening speed. He was up and straddling Castiel before he realized what happened, his shirt in a pile with his other clothing.

            “God, you’re beautiful,” Castiel said, mesmerized by the smooth skin of Dean’s chest. He ran his hands up Dean’s stomach to his chest and around his shoulders, gripping tight and pulling him down to kiss him on the lips.

            “I’m not that great,” Dean said into Castiel’s mouth. He started for Castiel’s neck when Castiel stopped him, bringing his face back up to his.

            “Seriously, you are,” Castiel said, face gone serious. 

            Dean rolled his eyes and worked Castiel’s shirt off, bending down to kiss his chest along his collarbones and down to an already pebbled nipple. Dean grazed it with his teeth and heard Castiel suck in a breath. He unbuttoned Castiel’s jeans, tugging them off in one quick motion, taking his boxers with them.

            Stroking Castiel until he was hard and flushed, Dean lowered his head, mouth hovering just above the tip of Castiel’s dick. Castiel gave a quiet moan of anticipation just as Dean’s cell phone started blasting Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees.

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean growled.

            “Just ignore it,” Castiel whined, grappling for Dean as he reluctantly pushed himself up to answer his phone.

            “I can’t, it’s the hospital,” Dean said, answering the phone. “Winchester. What? No, I can’t understand you. Relax, Stacey. No – yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes.” Dean ends the call and grabs Castiel’s arm, pulling him up. “There was an eight-car pile up – a school bus full of football players; they need us in the ER, it’s completely slammed. Get your clothes back on, we’ll take my car.”

            “Shit,” Castiel mumbled, stumbling to get his clothes back on as Dean did the same. They were out the door in two minutes and rounding the block to Dean’s Impala.

            “We’re definitely picking up where we left off when we get back,” Dean growled, weaving through traffic as fast as he could.

 

 

            The ER was in absolute chaos when Dean and Castiel arrived. Not bothering with their coats, badges or the usual semantics, the two men helped each other quickly rolled the sleeves of their shirts up and got to work on a broad shouldered boy in his football uniform, a linebacker maybe, barely on the stretcher and unconscious. There was blood coating his neck, shoulder, and half of his face, pooling around his eye. His helmet was still on but the back was cracked open.

            “Why the fuck is this kid’s helmet still on?” Dean yelled at no one in particular. “Someone get the fucking thing off!”

            “Dr. Winchester,” a middle-aged male nurse stepped next to him, clearly frazzled from the situation. “He has a very serious contusion to his head, we were keeping it on to…keep everything together. We weren’t sure what to do.”

            “What to do?” Dean repeated. “WHAT TO DO? Maybe you all should rethink your career choices if you don’t know what to do with injured patients. You fucking take care of them!” Castiel watched in slight awe as Dean directed the entire ER staff, his former military training kicking in. “Ferreira! Johnson! You get #26 on fluids, reset that leg before it sticks. Hayes and Phillips! You’re going to focus on all minor injuries. If they weren’t in the accident, they’ll have to wait. The rest of you, you’re going to keep these guys stable until I or another doctor can get to them. Got it?”

            “Got it!” everyone answered in unison.

            “Dr. Milton, you ready?” Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at Castiel. Castiel nodded his head and stepped next to Dean. “We need this helmet off now. Where’s the injury?”

            “Right side, just behind the ear, about seven inches – lateral. We tried taking the helmet off and the cut split even more,” the male nurse – Thompson - answered.

            “Alright, Cas – ahem – Dr. Milton, you’re going to take my spot over here,” Dean said, moving out of the way. “I’m going to take the right side. Thompson you’re going to pull the helmet off. You’re going to lift it just above the ear so I can get my hand over it, then you don’t fucking move a centimeter until I say.” Dean looked to Castiel in an unspoken question of preparedness; Castiel nodded, taking a deep breath.

            “Go ahead and lift it,” Dean said, voice low and concentrated. “Don’t stop until I say. Cas, make sure we keep his head braced. We don’t know what kind of spinal injuries he may have.” Castiel’s face reddened a bit at the use of the nickname in front of others, but quickly shook it off and focused. “Keep going…come on…little more. Woah woah, freeze! I see it. Fuck.”

            Castiel peered over, trying to get a look at it. It was much worse than they’d anticipated. While not a very wide cut, it was deep, bone peeking out from blood – blood that was now pouring rapidly through Dean’s hands.

            “Cas, this is all you now,” Dean said, both hands now pressed to the boy’s head, the helmet half hanging off. “I can’t move or he’ll bleed out in a couple minutes. What do we need to do?”

            Castiel looked down at the boy wide-eyed. He took a second to close his eyes and breathe. When he opened his eyes, he looked to Dean, another silent understanding.

            “Thompson,” Castiel snapped. “Abandon the helmet, we can’t move it anymore just yet. I want an A-line in his left wrist, an Echo, and a transfusion set up. Please tell me we’ve found his blood type?”

            The nurse nodded. “O-positive.”

            “I want two units ordered now,” Castiel said.

            “Doctor,” the nurse said. “He’s lost maybe two thirds of a unit here, they won’t allow more than was lost.”

            “Excuse me,” Castiel scoffed. “How long until paramedics were on the scene?”

            “About nine minutes.”

            “Nine minutes,” Castiel nodded. “Nine minutes with a head wound like this and I’m going to guess he was found on his side, not sitting straight up since buses don’t have seatbelts. Nine minutes of steady bleeding from a bone deep wound and you think he only just started bleeding when he came into the ER? Well then, by all means, you order one unit, let the kid bleed out, and then tell his parents you’re sorry, but looks like they’re gonna have to plan a funeral instead of their son’s next birthday. How about that, Nurse Thompson?”

            “Yes, sir,” Thompson mumbled, turning to leave. “Two units, O-positive.”

            “Shit,” Dean chuckled, when they were left alone.

            “Are you good there?” Castiel asked. “I really need the A-line in. We need his blood pressure monitored.”

            “I’m fine,” Dean said. “You do your thing.”

            Just as Castiel was inserting the needle, the boy started to shake. “Hey, no no no! We need help over here!” he yelled, trying in vain to hold down the boy who was bigger than him.

            “Goddammit,” Dean muttered, his hand slipping from its place, blood now dripping onto the floor.

            “He’s seizing,” Castiel explained to a nurse that appeared next to him. “Give me your scope.” He snatched it from around her neck before she could move, putting the buds in his ears and trying his hardest to listen to the boy’s chest. “His lung is collapsed. Get that A-line in; I need to know his blood pressure. Someone get me a tube in his throat.”

            Once on a monitor, the boy went still, beeps going crazy from the machine. The breathing tube was in, but helping in no way. Castiel checked the vitals on the monitor and growled, frustrated.

            “BP is dropping rapidly!” a nurse called out.

            “Come on, Cas, do something,” Dean said, still in his spot by the boy’s head.

            Castiel looked down at his shaking hands. “My adrenaline is too high,” he mumbled, trying to catch his breath. “Adrenaline! I need adrenaline! And where’s that fucking blood?”

            “Here!” Nurse Thompson yelled, running into the trauma room. “I’ve got it right here!”

            “Get it hooked up!” Dean ordered.

 

            Six hours later, the football player was out of surgery and in recovery with the rest of the accident victims, two of his teammates having already gone home with a few minor cuts and bruises.

            Dean and Castiel made it back to the apartment before midnight, crashing on Dean’s bed. Dean’s left side was sprawled across Castiel, his arm trapped under Dean’s belly.

            “I’d say let’s pick up where we left off,” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s shoulder. “But I can’t move.”

            “I’d just fall asleep in the middle of it and hurt your fragile ego,” Castiel chuckled, covering a yawn with his other arm.

            Dean moved his head so he could speak properly. “You did great tonight. “

            “Thank you, Dean.”

            “Almost as good as me.”

            “Shut up, Dean.”

            “Seriously though,” Dean said softly, clearing his throat. “Thanks for coming back with me. It’s nice having someone here.”

            Castiel only shifted his arm from under Dean so that he could wrap both of them around him. He thought about whispering to Dean how he too liked having another person around, but Dean was of course already snoring into his neck. Castiel settled for telling the dark room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor if you couldn't tell already, so I just winged it with the tiny bit I knew. Hopefully my horrible medical knowledge didn't ruin it too much for you.


	10. Chapter 10

This pattern continued well into autumn. Castiel would stay at Dean’s apartment five out of seven nights a week, until eventually a couple days before Halloween, he realized he hadn’t been to his own apartment in a couple weeks.

            “I think I forgot to pay my rent,” Castiel mumbled, focused on the freckles across Dean’s shoulder. He was lying next to Dean, tangled in sheets at the opposite end of the bed, clothes scattered across the floor.

            “Huh?” came Dean’s barely-coherent response. They’d been lying there, Castiel was pretty sure, for several hours now. He had been content watching Dean fight sleep for most of that time.

            “I’m pretty sure I didn’t pay my rent for the month. It was due on the twelfth,” Castiel said, rolling over as Dean pushed himself into a sitting position.

            “I thought you moved in here?” Dean asked, mussing his hair even more. “You stay here every night.”

            “I – well I guess technically – ”

            “Cas, will you move in with me, you numbskull?”

            “Really?”

            Dean looked at him exasperatedly.

            “Okay,” Castiel said softly, pushing Dean back down on the bed and kissing him. He ran his fingers across the stubble that was beginning to shadow Dean’s jawline. Watching Dean practically purring like a kitten at his touch, Castiel felt his heart palpitate and his breathing become shallow. This wasn’t the first time this feeling came about around his partner, but having just been asked to move in to Dean’s home made it stronger. So Castiel took a deep breath, held Dean’s face in his hands, and steeled himself to confess what he’d held in for months now.

            “What would you say if…” Castiel screwed his eyes shut. “If I were to tell you I love you?”

            When Castiel didn’t hear a response he opened his eyes. Dean was simply grinning up at him, face still framed between Castiel’s hands.

            “Are you telling me you love me?” Dean asked after a moment, cocky glint in his eye.

            “Y-yes.”

            “Can I hear it again?”

            “I love you, Dean,” Castiel said, a little more confident this time.

            Dean smiled, eyes softening. “I’ve never told someone – that I’ve dated – I loved them,” he confessed.

            “You’ve never been in love?” Castiel asked, wide-eyed.

            “Oh I have,” Dean chuckled. He pulled Castiel into his side and rested his chin on his mop of dark hair. “I met this girl named Lisa in college at some frat party, had a wild… _bendy_ night and, uh, I woke up the next morning and never really talked to her again. Then the whole thing with Benny happened and I came home – back to South Dakota – and we bumped into each other again. She had a kid and I thought he was mine. At that point in my life I wanted him to be, but she swore up and down that he wasn’t. We got together anyway and I played the head-of-the-family role for a bit, but for what ever reason – Sam, the way I grew up, my mental state, whichever – I couldn’t do it. So we broke up and I got back into my medical career. But…I loved her, but I don’t think she was a big love.”

            “A big love?” Castiel asked, running his fingers up and down Dean’s stomach.

            “Her name was Cassie, ironically,” Dean said, kissing the top of Castiel’s head. “Smartest, most beautiful girl I think I’ve ever seen. I met her the summer before my freshman year of college, had this crazy fling and didn’t see her again for a few years – right before I got back with Lisa. We hooked up again and I almost told her I loved her. I did love her, but I just couldn’t say it. So I figured things were better left how they were.”

            “And you can’t say it to me?” Castiel ventured, unable to bring himself to look Dean in the eye.

            Dean lifted his chin so they were looking at each other. “I do. Honestly, I do. Just give me some time. Please?”

            Castiel searched Dean’s eyes for sincerity before tipping his chin up to kiss him. “I supposed we should get my things tomorrow so my landlord doesn’t lock me out.”

 

 

            There wasn’t much to pick up from Castiel’s apartment. They left his bed and kitchen appliances for the next tenant, only bothering to take his clothes, laptop, and towels.

            “I have towels. I don’t understand why you needed them,” Dean said, arms folded. They were standing in the bathroom of their apartment, Dean’s multi-colored towels in a heap on the floor and Castiel’s pristine, fluffy white towels hanging on the rack next to the shower.

            “Mine are better,” Castiel said bluntly. “There are holes in yours!”

            Dean jumped, trying to wriggle his toe out of one of the aforementioned holes in a fade navy blue towel. His cheeks quickly flushed scarlet and he wordlessly scooped up the towels and left the room to throw them away.

            “Dean!” Castiel called after him, trying not to laugh. “Come on. You know I’m right!” He stopped when he saw Dean standing by the door rubbing one of the towels between his fingers.

            “I’ve had these things since I left for college,” Dean mumbled.

            Castiel put a hand to his shoulder. “Dean…We can put them back. I thought you’d like the fluffy ones better. I’m –”

            “I don’t think I really expected to be this…content,” Dean interrupted, turning to him. “I mean,” he laughed dryly, “I’ve been happy with other people, but there was always something…nagging in the back of my mind, scratching. With you, though, I’m just…happy.”

            Castiel had to keep from smiling too big. He reached up the half inch it took to match Dean in height and kissed him lightly. “Come on,” he said, taking Dean’s hand and leading him back to the bathroom.

            Dean followed him mindlessly, almost zombie-like. He stood there, staring off into space as Castiel turned the water on in the shower and gently undress Dean and himself. He kicked the pile of clothing into the corner and checked the water temperature. Knowing Dean liked the water practically scalding, Castiel dealt with it. He stepped into the stream bringing Dean with him.

           “Dean…” Castiel ventured. Dean looked at him, but still seemed far off. Castiel smirked, getting down to his knees, back to the stream of water. Dean’s cock was already hardening when Castiel stroked him to full mast. He swiped the tip of his tongue across the slit teasingly, glancing up at Dean. His eyes were closed, a hand moving to card through Castiel’s wet hair as he groaned.

           “God, Cas…” Dean moaned, dropping his head back and bracing his free hand against the small window next to him. “F-Fuck,” he stuttered as Castiel took him in his mouth, the tip of his cock pressing the back of Castiel’s throat.

           Castiel let Dean’s cock leave his mouth with a lewd pop, grinning as he teased the underside with his tongue. His hand went to his own dick, now leaking beads of pre-come. Dean’s hand slid from Castiel’s hair to his cheek as he stood upright.

           “I fucking…I –” Dean stopped short, screwing his eyes shut. Castiel could see the frustration on the other man’s face and understood what was not being said. “I do, Cas. I do…”

           “Hey,” Castiel hushed, kissing Dean firmly under the shower spray. “I know.”

           Dean sighed, visible weight lifting his shoulders just slightly.

           “If you don’t mind though,” Castiel said, voice gravelly and going straight to Dean’s painfully hard cock. “I’d really like to get off before we work for the next thirteen hours and you’re off limits.”

           Everyone who worked with them pretty much figured out they were dating about a month or so in. It technically was against protocol, but Dean was so admired and Castiel was quickly becoming a favorite amongst the female nurses, so none of their immediate co-workers were a worry. But they still thought it best not to flaunt it in front of patients and other doctors.

           Dean gave an almost primal growl, pulling Castiel against him so their chests were flush together, cocks rubbing wet trails against their bellies. Dean hitched Castiel’s leg around his hip, angling him so he could reach an already wet finger into Castiel. The muscles gave easily around Dean’s finger and he groaned, biting into Castiel’s shoulder.

           “Fuck, Cas…so hot,” he said into Castiel’s shoulder. He added a second finger, working Castiel open in a not-so-gentle or slow manner. “Just…wanna be – hmmp – in – _Jeeeesus_!”

           Castiel smirked, rubbing his hand down both their shafts and twisting his hand at the base like he knew Dean loved. Dean quickly added a third finger as payback, causing Castiel to moan so loud people on the street probably heard him, and went weak in the knees.

           Dean took that opportunity to grab Castiel’s other leg, hike it up around his waist and slam Castiel against the shower wall as he steadied his cock in his hand, teasing Castiel’s entrance.

          “Hurry up already,” Castiel said into Dean’s mouth, digging his nails into Dean’s shoulders, trying to push down on his cock.

          “You’re such a douchebag during sex,” Dean grunted, pushing into Castiel until his balls were brushing Castiel’s ass.

          “Mmm, don’t move yet,” Castiel moaned, running sloppy kisses along Dean’s jawline. “Fuck…” He tightened around the heat filling him, eliciting a deep bellow from his partner.

          “Christ, I gotta…Please,” Dean almost whimpered. Castiel started lifting himself off Dean’s erection painfully slow, muscles shaking. “Milton, I swear to God I will fucking end you.” And with that Dean slammed back into him, setting a fast merciless pace. Castiel worked his hand around their dicks to keep in time with Dean’s thrusts. Before long Castiel was crying out, coming onto their stomachs white and hot. He continued his strokes of Dean’s cock as he slammed into Castiel.

          Less than ten seconds later Dean was tensing up. “I’m gonna come. I’m – Cas, I’m gonna c-” Dean stuttered, biting his lip.

          “I love you, Dean,” Castiel smiled, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth as he came with a muffled shout.

 

 

          “You guys are late,” Meg sang as Dean and Castiel strode into their shared office. “Ohhh,” she smirked, looking at their still wet hair.

          “Devil horns,” Dean said, dropping into his chair and flipping through a stack of papers. “Suits you, Masters. A little too well.”

          Meg grinned, adjusting the red plastic horns on her head. She looked to Castiel and bit her lip suggestively. “I have to say, cutie pie. You’re get up is doing shit to me.”

          Castiel blushed, tugging on the priest’s collar of his costume. “Thanks, Meg,” he smiled shyly, slipping on his white coat.

          “Back off, Masters,” Dean grumbled, standing and putting on his own coat.

          “And why aren’t you in costume?” she asked. “It’s Halloween for God sake.”

          “I am!” Dean rummaged through one of the pockets in his coat. He pulled out a red foam clown nose and stuck it on his nose. “Patch Adams!”

          Meg looked to Castiel with her eyebrows raised.

          “It’s the best I could get him to do,” Castiel shrugged.

          “Fuck you, guys. It’s a good one,” Dean said, taking off the nose and pushing past them out of the office, towards the ER. “How’s Sammy doing?”

          “Great, Dean,” Meg answered sincerely. “Real progress.”

          Castiel swallowed thickly, grateful that Meg didn’t mention Sam’s weekly visitor. Sometimes when Castiel could fit it in and not seem suspicious to Dean, he’d try to see Sam multiple times a week. They spoke about Dean mostly. Sam always worried Dean wasn’t telling the truth when he’d ask if he was doing well, not too stressed, and Castiel would assure him he was fine or tell him about an argument they’d had, getting advice on better ways to handle Dean when he was in a mood.

         Dean was under the impression that Castiel met up with Becky Rosen once a week to catch up and Castiel wanted it to stay that way for as long as it could.

 

         “Alright, what do we have here,” Dean smiled, pushing aside the privacy drape of a bed in the ER. “A princess?”

         “I’m Frozen!” the little girl corrected, sitting on the edge of the bed in a pale blue princess dress, brown hair peeking out from under her blonde wig.

         “A what?” Dean cocked an eyebrow up, looking to the little girl’s mother.

         “She’s Elsa from the movie Frozen,” came the answer from behind Dean. Castiel cleared his throat and tugged on his priest’s collar again. Dean only stared at him in bewilderment. “It’s that kid’s movie. The commercial for it was on last night during The Walking Dead,” Castiel mumbled, moving into the cramped space next to Dean.

         “Right,” Dean said, turning back to the little girl and her mother. “So why are we in the ER tonight?”

         “My belly hurts,” the little girl said, pouting.

         “She was eating some of the candy she got trick-or-treating and started complaining about her stomach. She’s thrown up twice. Do you think it’s food poisoning?” the mother asked, clutching her purse.

         Dean turned on his charm towards the frazzled young mother. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-six or twenty-seven. There were bags under her eyes that Dean thought were probably permanent. He noticed her clothes looked worn, basics that wouldn’t go completely out of fashion. He and Castiel had sympathy for the woman.

         Dean put a hand to her shoulder. “We’ll check her out to make sure. Either way she’ll be fine,” he said to her. She nodded, discreetly wiping away a tear.

         “Okay, Miss Elsa,” Dean said, turning to the little girl. “What I need you to do is get back on this bed and lay your head here for me.” He patted the bed and helped her scoot back to lie down.

         “Perfect. Now my friend here, Dr. Milton, is going to press a couple spots on your tummy and you let him know if it hurts, okay?”

          The girl nodded.

          Castiel stood next to the bed, Dean at his side monitoring. “I was rooting for you in Frozen,” he said, winking. The little girl covered her mouth as she giggled. Castiel felt around the girl’s stomach with his fingers, making his way to her lower belly. He gave a firm press and what followed sounded like leather couch cushions rubbing together. Castiel’s eyes widened as he looked over to Dean who was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

          “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” the mother said, covering her eyes in embarrassment.

          “What just happened there?” Castiel asked the girl with a chuckle.

          “I just…” The little girl put her hands over her mouth the hide her smile. “Tooted.”

          “I think we figured out our problem,” Dean laughed. “Let’s keep the candy to a minimum for the next couple days. If it persists more than three days, take her to Dr. Penshorn on Tremont Street – best Pediatrician I know.”

          “Thank you Doctor…”

          “Winchester,” Dean answered.

          “Winchester, right – and thank you Dr. Milton.”

          Dean and Castiel nodded, ready to move on to their next patient. Dean dropped off the little girl’s paperwork with the charge nurse.

          “Do they have insurance?” Dean asked, pointing to the paperwork. The nurse shook her head. Dean bent to speak into her ear, Castiel assumed so he couldn’t hear, though he did anyway.

          “Bill it to me, alright?”

          The nurse agreed to, making note on a form before Dean and Castiel moved on.

          If Castiel ever thought he couldn’t love Dean Winchester anymore than he already did, he’d just been proven wrong. He’d never met someone so selfless, so perfectly matched to their career. It took every fiber in him not to stare at Dean in wonder and unabashed “chick-flick” love, as Dean would graciously put it, or push him up the nearest wall and kiss the ever-living shit out of the man.

          But Castiel knew anything of the sort would either embarrass his partner or get them fired, so he settled for a gentle squeeze of Dean’s arm and a smile as they weaved through patients and nurses.

          Thankfully, the world had mercy on the ER and the doctors got away with no major traumas, mostly drunken college kids with minor accidents. It made Castiel slightly regret not making the most of his social life during school. That only lasted until he missed being puked on by a quick-thinking Dean pulling him a step away.

          There was a lull in patients around 3 a.m. that gave Dean and Castiel a chance to grab something to eat. Castiel expected they would go down to the cafeteria where Dean would get his usual greasy burger and slice of pie while Castiel would worry about the man’s health over his calorie conscious salad or turkey sandwich, but Dean decided to spend the break on the Psychiatric ward.

          “I just want to talk to Meg about him,” Dean said, leaning against the wall of the empty hallway by the cafeteria. “I’ll meet you back in the ER in twenty.”

          “Okay, Dean. I’ll bring you back a salad,” Castiel said, quickly kissing him and walking away.

          “Pie!” Dean called to him.

          “Yeah, I know. Salad!”

          “I said pie!”

          “Salad?”

          “This isn’t funny, Cas. They have apple for fuck sake!”

          “Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll get your salad,” Castiel winked, before disappearing behind the cafeteria doors.

          “Dickbag,” Dean mumbled, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not terribly happy with this chapter, it feels to jumbled or something, but there were needed bits to move the story along. I hope you aren't getting too bored of it yet. I tried to make it up to you guys with a decent smut scene, but I think the next chapter will be a continuation of this night/morning and just Pure-T smut for you all if that's something you'd dig?


	11. Chapter 11

 

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Dean and Castiel arrived home from work, painting the living room in a warm pink sheen. Shadows of the skyline formed on the floor in front of the windows.

Castiel flopped down on the couch, arm over his eyes, absolutely drained of energy from work, but not so much that he couldn’t appreciate how much he felt at home in this apartment – with Dean. It wasn’t even really the apartment, Castiel was sure they could live anywhere in the world and it wouldn’t matter. It was living with Dean that made him so comfortable. If he were being honest with himself, he hadn’t felt this way since his parents died. That feeling was wonderful if not a little overwhelming.

…Until something more overwhelming flooded his nostrils.

He dry-heaved. “Dean,” he choked out, blocking the other man from trying to sit down on the couch. “You have to go wash that smell off. How has it gotten stronger in the past hour?”

“Dude,” Dean whined. “I’m so tired. I just want to sit down a minute.”

Castiel blocked him again, kicking Dean’s ass so he stood straight. “If you don’t clean up now, _I’ll_ be the next one to throw up on you.”

Dean huffed, kicking his boots off and headed down the hallway. “Who the fuck eats a whole bag of candy in twenty minutes. Fucking college kids,” he mumbled, stomping away.

“Put your clothes in the laundry room so they don’t stink up the place!” Castiel called out.

He got up, moving to the record player in the corner and Dean’s endless rows of vinyl records. He ran a finger across spines looking for something to peek his interest. He smiled pulling one out of its sleeve and carefully placing it on the player. The needle moved automatically to the first song. Willie Nelson’s _Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground_ started playing, tinny and fuzzy.

Castiel settled back on the couch andsigheddeeply, getting comfortable. He heard the shower start up and ran a hand lazily down his chest, priest costume still on.

There was a small gap between his pelvis and pants, his hipbones acting as a bridge as he sucked in a breath slowly. There was just enough room for him to slip his hand down his pants without unbuttoning them. He let the tips of his fingers brush against the heat of his hardening cock.

He bit back a moan as he hastily unbuttoned his slacks, sliding them out of the way, just under his balls.

Castiel kept his eyes closed, feeling the sun – now higher in the sky – warm his exposed skin. He took hold of his cock stroking in loose, languid pulls. He let out a long shaky breath and quickened his stroke, twisting his hand just so at the head causing a shudder to wrack his body.

He groaned while his hips began thrusting in time with his hand. Pre-come began beading on the tip; Castiel put a finger to it and rubbed along the head of his dick and down the length to lessen the friction.

It all felt relaxed and good – _really good_ – but it just wasn’t enough and the song was inching towards its finish. So Castiel kicked his slacks further down his legs, now settling at his knees. He ran his fingers over the slit of his flushed cock, picking up pre-come and reached around to his hole, working two fingers in easily, stretching himself open. He moved his other hand to his cock to work over it again.

He could feel it; his release almost within reach, but there was just one fucking thing in his way.

Castiel grunted, annoyed, and went to grab at his priest’s collar. His fingers were curled around it when he heard, “Don’t.”

Castiel jerked in surprise, his eyes flying open. He froze, fingers still in his ass, hand on the collar as he watched Dean standing just inside the perimeter of the living room. He was in one of Castiel’s towels, hair still dripping wet.

“Don’t take that off,” Dean said, voice sounding wrecked already.

“Okay,” came Castiel’s intelligent response. He left the collar to remove his slacks the rest of the way before lying back on the couch; cock lying against his belly and steadily leaking pre-come. “I didn’t realize you had a priest kink.”

“I didn’t either,” Dean answered, walking over to the record player. “Willie Nelson?”

Castiel nodded, blushing.

“You’re West Virginia’s showing.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan, buddy,” Dean smirked. He scanned his records, found what he was looking for, and switched it with the Willie Nelson one. Led Zeppelin’s _Since I’ve Been Loving You_ filled the room.

Dean turned back to Castiel, biting his lip. He pulled on his towel so it dropped to the ground. His cock was flushed and bobbing towards his stomach as he stalked his way over to Castiel.

Castiel went to sit up, but Dean put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down. Robert Plant’s trill began as Dean swung a leg over Castiel, making sure to grind his ass against his partner’s dick as he sat on top of him.

Castiel groaned, taking Dean’s face in his hands and pulling him down into a kiss. He took Dean’s cock in his hand and positioned against his hole when Dean stopped.

“Wait.”

Castiel’s brows knit in confusion.

“I want to switch places this time,” Dean said, blushing just the slightest bit.

“You mean you wanna bot –”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure, Dean?” Castiel asked, putting a hand to his partner’s cheek. Dean nodded, pushing off of Castiel and settling back on the other side of the couch.

Castiel took a deep breath and settled over Dean. Looking down at him, it hit Castiel just how much Dean loved him, even without saying it; the amount of trust in someone it took to do this.

Castiel blinked back the threat of tears and kissed Dean, tender and sweet. Dean distractedly kissed back, fingers running down Castiel’s sides out of habit.

“We can’t do this if you’re tense, Dean,” Castiel said. “Relax. I won’t hurt you, okay?” Dean nodded, letting out a breath and visibly relaxing as Castiel ran his hands up his thighs.

“I turned off my phone,” Dean whispered, voice ragged. “No interruptions.”

“What about emergencies?” Castiel asked, kissing trails along his shoulders.

“If it’s bad enough, they have your numb – _fuck me_ ,” Dean groaned as Castiel flicked his tongue across the tip of Dean’s cock.

Castiel smirked, pushing Dean’s knees up towards his stomach. He settled between his legs and licked a circle around Dean’s hole. At the sound of Dean’s sharp in take of breath, Castiel dipped his tongue inside slowly. Dean’s moan was so deep Castiel swore he could hear the picture frames on the wall rattle. It was all the encouragement he needed to add a finger to the thrusts of his tongue.

Dean weaved his fingers through Castiel’s hair and tugged. Castiel glanced up to see Dean’s head thrown back, mouth hanging open. He slowly added a second finger, knuckle by knuckle, and curled them just so.

“Oh my fucking god, Cas!” Dean shouted, yanking Castiel’s hair. His eyes went wide and he glared at his partner still pumping his fingers rhythmically. Dean stared at him in a tense silence for a moment, glaring at the cocky grin on Castiel’s mouth. Dean laid back down, running his hand down the side of Castiel’s face. Castiel chuckled and went back to his task.

He curled his fingers again, this time barely stroking Dean’s prostate.

“Fuck, baby,” Dean moaned. “S-So good. Keep going.”

As Castiel was readying a third finger his phone started ringing on the coffee table next to them.

“Ignore it, Milton,” Dean practically growled.

Castiel did so. He easily added a third finger and it went straight to his dick.

“I’m – I think I’m ready,” Dean said, breathless and all but writhing under Castiel.

Castiel sat up, balancing over Dean with one hand while the other held his cock, ready to enter his partner.

…And his phone rang again.

“Come on,” he muttered, leaning over to read the caller i.d. “It’s Meg.”

Dean sat up, sighing. “Better be good,” he snapped.

Castiel answered, Dean watching him go from indifferent to wide-eyed.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll tell him. Yeah. Okay, will do.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Sam,” Castiel said, looking down at his phone as he ended the call. “He’s asking to come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally supposed to take like a week at most to write and it somehow ended up taking much longer than that - story of my life.  
> Sadly, I have some not so great news. This will be the last chapter for a while. I just finished my first week of law school and I'm already so stressed out and have two papers due within the week and three more due by mid-september so writing for pleasure is not a top priority right now. I will eventually get back to this story, but I honestly don't know when that will be. I'd like to say before december, but don't quote me on that.  
> I really appreciate all the comments and kudos on this story though, so thank you for all the support!


	12. Chapter 12

"What?" Dean asked, stupefied. 

Castiel put the phone to Dean's ear, waiting for him to grab it. He didn't. Castiel took his phone back and put it on speaker.

"Megan?" Dean almost whispered, sounding so small. 

"Hey, Dean," Meg said softly. Castiel tried not to look shocked at Meg's soft demeanor and Dean's use of her full name. 

"So Sam..."

"Yeah. He asked to see me after hours and we talked for a long time. He's been regular on his meds, no documentation of delusions for almost a month..." She sighed. "I'd be willing to try it out for a while - that is if you want this too."

"Yeah, of course," Dean said immediately. He looked up at Castiel, seeming to remember he was sitting there. "I mean I need to talk to Cas about it first."

"Just call me back when you decide," Meg answered. "Bye, Dean. Cas."

Castiel ended the call and looked at Dean warily. He was sitting there, buck naked, frozen still. "Dean this is your house. It's your decision. If you want Sam to live here then I'm okay with that."

"I want him to...definitely," Dean sighed. "But...I mean - is he really ready to?"

Castiel put his hand to Dean's cheek. "That's what we'll have to see. Meg seems confident enough to let him come home."

Dean put his hand over Castiel's. "Right, yeah." He finally looked up at Castiel. "Can we go to bed?"

"Come on." Castiel helped him up, pushing him towards the bedroom. He helped Dean into bed, pulling the blinds closed. Dean fell asleep almost immediately and Castiel snuck out of the room. The sun was up in full force and he was wired enough that he knew he wasn't going to sleep until evening. He picked out another record, "Cheek to Cheek" by Fred Astaire, slightly shocked to find it in Dean's collection. He unlocked the bay window in the living room, opening it out over the streets of Boston, sitting in the sill. He had a feeling deep in his gut that some part of this was not going to end well, he just didn't know what part exactly.

 

 

Castiel jolted awake, not realizing he'd fallen asleep in the window sill. He looked to the kitchen where the noise had come from. Dean was clambering around, cooking breakfast from the smell of it. Castiel reached for his phone in his pocket, checking the time. It had only been an hour. He stretched, his tired bones popping, and slowly stood. 

"Morning," Dean called, gruffly. 

"Dean, it's only been two hours since you went to bed," Castiel said, walking into the kitchen and peeking over Dean's shoulder to see what he was cooking.

"I took the next couple days off and got you the time off too," Dean said, flipping bacon over in the pan. "Meg called again. Sam wants to come home tonight. I don't have anything ready for him, so I need to get to the store. All of his stuff is in storage in South Dakota." He was talking a mile a minute, breathing heavily.

"That's okay," Castiel promised, squeezing his shoulder. "Relax. We'll get what we need and set it up. He'll be fine."

"Right, yeah." He lifts the pan up. "Bacon and eggs?"

 

"Dean, I think we've got plenty of stuff," Castiel mumbled behind a shopping cart filled with bedstuffs and toiletries. They were in Bed Bath and Beyond and Castiel was pretty sure Dean was going to buy out the store if they were there any longer. 

"You don't think he needs a shelf? He has all those books," Dean said, almost to himself.

Castiel barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. "I have a bookshelf in storage, he can have it."

"Yeah, okay," Dean mumbled, almost pouting. The stress and worry was evident on his face, the wrinkle between his brows deepening. Castiel put his hand at the back of Dean's neck, pulling him towards him, and kissed the wrinkle away. Dean smiled, his shoulders releasing their tension. 

"Winchester?!" Both Dean and Castiel froze. "Dean Winchester?"

Dean gently, but firmly pushed Castiel away. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before pasting on a smile and turning. There was a man in dress blues, his pristine white hat in his arm. He was very clearly shocked by what he'd just witnessed. "I'll be damned," Dean laughed. "Adam Milligan. How the hell are ya?"

Adam stood frozen for an uncomfortable moment before plastering on the same fake smile. "I, uh, I'm good. You...look like you're doing good?"

"Um," Dean flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm finally working at Boston General...in the E.R., uh trauma."

"No shit, Doctor Winchester, huh?"

Castiel wordlessly stepped back when it was clear Dean wasn't going to introduce him. He tried to bite back the sting of it without avail. He politely waited for the conversation to end. The marine and the former marine said their good-byes, Dean standing a little straighter and Adam not quite meeting Castiel's gaze. Castiel silently turned and pushed the overflowing cart towards the check out area, Dean following a step behind him.

Castiel managed to bite his tongue until they walked out to the Impala where Dean began shoving as much stuff as he could into the trunk. "Ya know," Castiel huffed. "I get that you're not fucking rainbow flag, pride marching, out and proud homosexual, but dammit if I'm not."

"What the hell are you talking about, Cas?" Dean gaped.

"It's taken me a long time to be proud of who I am. I'm not going to let you make me feel ashamed of it," Castiel snapped, tossing the last toiletry item into the trunk and slamming the hood closed. 

"Hey, watch it!"

"You're the first man I've had the guts to openly love and you're fucking ashamed of it!" Castiel yelled, his voice cracking. Dean opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it, wide-eyed. "Get in the car. We have to pick up Sam in three hours." Dean did as he was told and quickly started the engine. Castiel discreetly wiped away a tear before getting in the passenger seat.

 

After hauling all of their purchases into the apartment, Castiel shut himself in Sam's room to put it all together. Dean knocked on the door two separate times, attempting to talk, but Castiel stayed silent. He stayed silent until they walked into the Psychiatric unit of the hospital. They met Meg outside of Sam's room.

"You ready?" she asked, directing the question towards both Dean and Castiel. Only Dean nodded his head.

They opened the door to Sam standing by his bed, suitcase and duffle bag packed and ready to go. Castle's icy mood thawed the tiniest bit and he had to smile at Sam. He gave a little wave as Dean walked in and hugged his little brother the hardest Castiel had ever seen.

"Little brother," Dean sighed, smiling and clapping Sam on the back once. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," Sam smiled shyly.

Dean grabbed the handle of the suitcase and walked into the hallway, standing next to Castiel. "Sam, this is Castiel. Cas, my brother, Sam."

Sam's smile faltered for just a second. "Oh - oh yeah, I've heard a lot about you," he said, shaking Castiel's hand.

The corner of Castiel's mouth turned up in a grin. "You as well, Sam."

 

 

The three of them made it to the apartment before nightfall, after signing a mound of paperwork to release Sam to Dean's custody. Dean almost giddily showed off Sam's new room at the end of the hall. "Cas spent the afternoon getting it ready for you," he explained, tossing Sam's suitcase onto the newly furnished bed. Sam looked to Castiel who gave a tight lipped smile. Sam cocked his head to the side, puppy-dog eyes in full force. 

"Hey, Dean?" Sam interrupted, keeping his eyes on Castiel. 

"Yeah, buddy?"

"I, uh, I'm kinda hungry. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Pizza or Chinese?"

"You pick," Sam said, nonchalantly ushering Dean out of the room. Once he was out of ear-shot, Sam sat on his bed, staring at Castiel leaning in the doorway. "What happened?"

"What?" Castiel stood straighter, blushing. "What are you talking about?"

"You haven't said a word to Dean and you guys haven't been less than two feet apart," Sam said, lying back with his arms behind his head. "If I know my brother, he fucked something up big time. It's kind of a Winchester trait."

Castiel walked further into Sam's room, awkwardly messing with a trinket they bought him on the desk. "We...were out today and I was kissing him when we ran into one of his marine buddies."

"Ahh..." Sam scrunched up his nose. "Dean didn't do so well in the gay boyfriend department, did he?"

"He acted like I wasn't even there," Cas said, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. Sam gave him a sympathetic look that didn't help. "I mean, I wasn't looking for him to introduce me as the boyfriend - I get that can be a little awkward - but he didn't introduce me at all."

"Yikes..."


	13. ANYBODY OUT THERE?!

Hello to anyone still following this fic! I realize it's been a...while since this fic was last updated, but over the past few months I've had a surge of people giving it kudos.

I graduate from law school next month and survived the bar exam so if there are still any readers interested in this story I'd love to attempt some sporadic updates!

Let me know in the comments!

-CK


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter for you all! Thank you guys so much for all the kind comments. It's great to know you guys enjoy this fic so much. I hope this chapter is a decent comeback to Stay With Me.

    "I just don't want to be the secret," Castiel said, voice shaking as he sat across from Sam. "I was always the secret back home."

    "Okay, don't hate me," Sam said softly. "But in case you haven't noticed, Dean is 100% macho dude. He's a marine from the Midwest. He got into the military before don't ask don't tell was repealed. And you're the first guy he's ever dated. It's gonna take some time for him to work all these new things out. I understand where you're coming from, but you also have to understand where Dean is coming from."

    Castiel sat silent for a minute. "You're good at this."

    Sam shrugged. "You spend close to a year talking to psychiatrists 24/7, you tend to pick up a few things."

    "Pizza's here!" Dean called from down the hallway.

    Sam and Castiel stood up together. "You have to give him time. He has a lot more going on in his head than he lets on," Sam said, clapping Castiel on the back. 

    Dean was sprawled across the couch, a pizza box on his stomach and a slice halfway to his mouth. "What the fuck?" Sam said. Dean glanced over at Sam and Castiel, eating at least half the slice of pizza in one bite. 

    "You guys were too slow," Dean said around a mouth full of food. "There's another box in the kitchen. Hey bring me a beer while you're in there!" Castiel gave Dean the finger as he and Sam went into the kitchen. They each got a couple slices and Castiel grabbed a beer from the fridge before they joined Dean in the living room. Castiel pushed Dean's legs aside and sat down. Sam pulled the bean bag next to the couch and perused the DVDs.

    "Movie?" he asked.

    "You pick, little brother."

    Sam grinned, picked a movie, and hide the case so no one could see. He fell back in the bean bag chair and began eating.

    Dean went to grab the beer in Castiel's hand as the previews came on, but Cas jerked it away and took a swig. "What gives?" Dean whined. Castiel rolled his eyes and handed him the beer. The movie began and the titled popped up.

**_CHILDREN OF THE CORN_ **

**** "No!" Dean shook his head, closing the pizza box and sitting up. "No fucking way, man." Sam began laughing, so much he was snorting.

    "Problem?" Castiel asked as Dean stood up.

    "I  _ hate _ this movie," Dean said. "Creepy fucking puritan kids? FUCK NO. It's Sam's DVD, I don't even know why it's still here. You ladies have fun." He took his pizza and walked down the hallway to his room.

    "Wow," Castiel laughed. "You knew that would happen?"

    Sam nodded. "Hated that movie since we were kids. We dared each other to go out in the corn fields one night after watching it. He went first. But he didn't know I'd gotten our friend Jo to sneak out there first. She chases him through the fields, scared him so much he wet his pants," Sam explained with a mischievous smile.

    Castiel felt bad, but couldn't hide the grin on his face.

    Twenty minutes later Dean was leaning against the wall connecting the hallway and living room, keeping his eyes on Castiel and not the tv screen. "Can I have my beer?" he mumbled. Castiel held it up, not breaking eye contact with the tv. He waited for the bottle to be taken out of his hand, but instead felt the couch sag a little as Dean snuggled up next to him, putting the bottle down on the coffee table. He was caught off guard, but quickly shifted so they were both comfortable. Dean tucked his head under Castiel’s chin. “Don’t be mad at me forever please.”

    Castiel woke to early morning sun shining directly in his eyes, one arm dead asleep under the weight of both he and Dean, the other arm snaked under Dean’s t-shirt against his back. Sam was splayed like a seven foot starfish across the bean bag chair, his head fallen back with deep snores coming from his open mouth. 

    Castiel was just about to go back to sleep when the alarm clock on his phone started blaring music. He tried to wriggle his his numb arm to his back pocket to get it, but he couldn’t. Sam was starting to grumble.

    “Turn that off,” Dean groaned into Castiel’s chest.

    “I can’t reach,” Castiel whispered. Sam was beginning to wake up, but Dean burrowed further into Castiel. “My arm’s asleep. Get it out of my pocket.” 

    Dean snaked his hand under Castiel and after a good tug, presented the still ringing phone to Castiel without ever lifting his head. Castiel hastily turned it off, hoping he hadn’t woken up Sam. Dean burrowed further into Castiel, attempting to fall back asleep.

    “Anybody up for going to get some breakfast?” Castiel and Dean groaned unhappily at Sam’s question.

    “One day,” Dean said, slowly getting up and off of the couch. “One day I will get a full eight hours of sleep.” He continued down the hallway towards the bathroom. “Even a full four. I’m not picky.” 

    Twenty minutes later the three of them were in the booth of the diner Castiel had spent so much of med school, Sam on one side, Dean and himself on the other side. Castiel was keenly aware of how much space was between him and Dean, but tried his best to ignore it. 

    “This place is great,” Sam said.

    “How would you know,” Dean said around a mouthful of pancake. “You’re eating fucking granola and yogurt.”

    “Honestly, I didn’t know they even sold that here,” Castiel laughed, digging into his omelette and black coffee.

    “I was thinking about getting a library card,” Sam said, looking down at his food. “Spend some time at the one in the North End when you guys are working. Get reaquainted with people.” He laughed nervously. 

    “Absolutely,” Dean said with a smile. “We’ll head over there after we finish here and get you sorted. We can get you a phone too, in case you need anything while we’re at the hospital.”

 

**Four Months Later**

 

    Everyone had fallen into a nice routine; Sam spent his days at the library, checking in with Dean or Castiel on their lunch breaks, spending nights at home studying to possibly enter law school again. Castiel could see Dean making an effort to be more open and affectionate in public, though after a close call in a supply room at work they had decided to keep everything as professional as possible in the hospital. 

    Castiel had been thinking he just might be able to handle the whole ER Physician thing when his night shift fell on St. Patrick’s Day. The ER was an absolute madhouse. It was three hours into the shift and Castiel was pretty sure he could now treat alcohol poisoning with his eyes closed. Dean was even in good spirits, allowing one of the nurses to put a headband with two glittery shamrock antennas on his head. He eventually passed them onto a drunken teenage girl that had slapped his ass as a way to say thank you. Though hectic, everything had been running smoothly until the charge nurse got a call.

    “Doctor Winchester!” she yelled. Dean and Castiel peeked out from behind the curtain of a patient room. Castiel instantly knew they were about to get bad news. Nurse Silvera, the charge nurse, was wide-eyed and pale faced, the phone still in her hands. 

    “What?” Dean snapped, annoyed by being yelled at while with a patient.

    “Paramedics called. Eight year old gunshot victim in critical condition, less than a minute out. They want someone meeting them in the ambulance bay.”

    Dean immediately went into action. “Doctor Milton, prep trauma 2. I want a crash cart, extra supplies, everything. Be ready when I come back in. Yolanda, you’re with me,” he said to a nurse walking by as he headed out the doors to the ambulance bay.

    Castiel was running the crash cart to the room when the door burst open. Paramedics and nurses were pushing a stretcher that had Dean on it, working on a small boy. He was already covered in blood and trying in vain to stop the bleeding. 

    Castiel abandoned the cart and rushed over as Dean yelled, “Cas, help! GSW to the upper abdomen. There’s an exit wound, but I think it nicked his lung.” The kid was unresponsive, but wheezing. Dean seemed to staunch the bleeding for the moment, but Castiel was very worried that the bullet had hit the boy’s spine.

    “He needs a needle thoracostomy,” Cas said, following the stretcher into the trauma room. 

    “Get it now,” Dean yelled, bending over and putting his ear the boy’s chest.

    Castiel turned and Nurse Silvera was there with the cannula. She handed it to him and gave his back a pat. Castiel turned back to the boy, lifting his shirt further. He found the space between the correct ribs and inserted the cannula and needle.

    “How’s it going, Cas?” Dean asked, breathless.

    Castiel slowly pulled the needle out and with it a rush of pent up air released with it. “I’ve got it in.” He checked the boy’s breathing and he was no longer wheezing. The nurses around them were hooking him up to monitors. Dean and Castiel then worked on the gun shot wound. The boy started regaining consciousness as his lung began working again.

    “Hey there, buddy,” Dean smiled, getting off of the stretcher to stand next to Castiel as they worked. “You’re at the hospital. I’m gonna push on your belly and I want you to tell me if it hurts, okay?” The boy nodded, lids heavy. Dean started just above the hip. Nothing. He continued a couple inches at a time. Nothing. “That’s good. What’s your name?”

    “DeShawn.”

    “Great name,” Dean smiled. “How old are you?”

    “Eight.”

    “Perfect. My name’s Doctor Winchester. I’m gonna talk to Doctor Milton for a second while these pretty nurses take care of you.” Dean pulled Castiel out into the hallway. When he let go of Castiel’s scrubs he left a bloody handprint. He was still staring at that handprint when Dean murmured, “The fucker was in the same ambulance.”

    “What?” Castiel turned his attention to Dean.

    “The mother fucker that shot this kid, they had to take him in the same ambulance. The cops slammed his head into the ground arresting him. He was bitching about being seen right away while I had the kid’s blood pumping all over my hands.

    Just then a man started yelling at the nurse’s station. He was handcuffed with two police officers flanking him. Dean growled low in his chest and stalked over to the man. 

    “Excuse me!” Dean yelled over him. “You’re not gonna yell at anyone in my ER. I’ve got an eight year old kid in critical condition over there. You are my last priority.”

    “Man, that was an accident. I ain’t mean to hit DeShawn, I was aiming for his bitch of a mother.” The man pointed to a woman in the corner with Nurse Thompson, crying into his shoulder. “But my head fuckin’ hurts -” Before the man could finish, Dean hauled off and punched him in the jaw, knocking him out of the hands of the police and onto the floor. Dean jumped him and continued to land punches on the man’s face. Castiel was there in an instant and, with a struggle, pulled him off of the man as the police yanked him back to standing position. 

    “How’s your head feel now, asshole?” Dean spat. 

    Just then there was a loud beep coming from trauma room two. Dean and Castiel went still. A nurse threw open the curtain to DeShawn’s room. “Doctors!” she yelled. As they ran to the room, Castiel heard the piercing scream of the boy’s mother as she realized they were rushing into her son’s room. He stopped just outside of the room.

    “Thompson, put her in room five and stay with her,” he ordered. The nurse nodded, moving her along.

    Fifteen minutes later Castiel was pushing Dean away from DeShawn’s body, having done compressions for a full thirteen minutes. Castiel held Dean against the opposite wall with both hands.

    “Call it,” he said quietly.

    “Time of death...1:05am,” one of the nurses said, checking her watch.

    Castiel turned back to Dean. “I’m going to inform his mother. Do you think you can get yourself together long enough to go with me?” he asked. He really hoped Dean could; he hadn’t dealt with this part of ER work yet and was terrified of doing it alone.

    Dean wasn’t even looking at Castiel when he said, “I need to keep doing compressions, it isn’t over!” Castiel pushed him back against the wall, stepping in front of him to block his view of the boy.

    “Look at me. LOOK. AT. ME.” Dean slowly met his gaze. “Go to the break room and stay there,” Castiel ordered. “Do you hear me?” Dean nodded and left the room.

    Castiel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. Nurse Silvera put a hand to his arm. “I’ll go with you, honey.” Castiel nodded, thankful.

    They found DeShawn’s mother in the empty trauma room with Nurse Thompson, still crying into his shoulder. Castiel stayed as professional as he could while telling the woman her son had died. He had both Nurse Thompson and Nurse Silvera stay with her until she could calm down enough to call someone to come get her. He could still hear her crying as he walked away towards the breakroom. 

    On his way he stopped by the man that had shot the gun. Giving him a once over, Castiel said, “Nothing’s broken. His eyes are dilating just fine. I’ll have a nurse clean him up and then I want him out of the ER.” The police officers nodded curtly. Castiel continued on to the breakroom. He found Dean sitting in the dark on the bench in front of the lockers. Castiel closed the blinds so they had some privacy from the nurses and other doctors milling about before sitting next to Dean. 

    After a few minutes Castiel gently pulled Dean to his chest. It was there that Dean broke down. “It never gets easier,” he cried. “Anyone who says it does is fucking lying. Eight fucking years old, Cas.” Castiel kissed his hair and let him cry for what seemed like hours until he pulled away, wiping his face on a towel he had next to him. “I need to change into some clean scrubs,” Dean said.

    The door to the breakroom opened. Nurse Silvera appeared. “Doctor Milton, I need you for just a minute.”

    “Okay.”

    “You need anything Doctor Winchester?”

    “No. Thanks, Nancy. I’m just gonna change and I’ll be back out in a few minutes,” Dean answered.

    “Take your time, honey.”

    Castiel walked out with Nurse Silvera, closing the door behind them. “What is it?” he asked.

    “Doctor Masters is here. She asked to see you and to not let Doctor Winchester know she’s here.”

    Castiel’s stomach dropped. “Where is she?”

    “Waiting for you at her desk.”

    Castiel sighed and headed that way. He found Meg leaning against the front of her desk, arms folded and a worried look on her face.

    “Cas,” she gasped, looking at the front of his scrubs. He looked down to realize he too was covered in blood.

    He ran a hand through his hair, exhausted. “GSW on a little boy. Didn’t make it. What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

    “It’s Sam,” she said. Castiel froze. “Last week, when you and Dean were on night shift, I was out with some friends and I saw Sam by the Newmarket bus stop.”

    “That’s practically Dorchester. What the hell was he doing down there?”

    “He was talking to a girl,” Meg said. “It was quick and then he ducked down some side street. I don’t know what his old girlfriend looked like, but there’s a chance it was her.”

    “Jesus fucking Christ,” Castiel mumbled.

    “There’s more,” Meg said.

    “Of course there is.”

    “In our last session Sam said he was spending his days at the library.”

    “Yeah, he’s studying to go back to law school,” Castiel said.

    “No he isn’t,” Meg said. “I called the North End Library and he’s been researching demon mythology. Obsessively. Requesting all kinds of books, spending hours and hours reading about them. And there’s this,” she said, handing him a folder.

    He opened and scanned the document in it.

    “Monthly tox screen came back positive for Cocaine.” Castiel closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a serious headache. “I need to tell Dean -”

    Castiel’s eyes flew open. “No,” he interrupted. 

    “Cas, I have -”

    “No, not right now. He cannot handle something like this right now.”

    “Cas…”

    Castiel put his hand up to stop her. “Not right now. Not tonight. We will tell him soon.”

    Castiel wasn’t sure what this would do to Dean, but whatever it was would not be good in the slightest. He left Meg and the tox screen results in the office with the suggestion to go home and let him figure out the best way to handle it. At that moment, he just wanted to worry about getting through the rest of his shift.


	15. Chapter 15

The walk home was quiet, save for the sounds of people around them on their way to work. The sun was fully risen, basking everything in a golden hue. Castiel had taken a shower at the hospital, unable to get rid of the feel of the blood on him. His hair was still wet, dripping onto his t-shirt. The air was still too cool to be wearing only t-shirts, but neither Castiel or Dean felt it. 

Castiel was still wrestling with how and when to tell Dean about Sam, when Dean stopped him a block before their apartment with an arm against his chest. Castiel looked to Dean, slightly dazed. “What is it?” he asked.

“Can we stop in here?” Dean asked, pointing to an Irish pub. It still had drunken St. Paddy’s celebrators coming in and out, green and orange confetti and streamers littering the sidewalk outside of it. “I just don’t want to go home yet.”

Castiel was anxious to get home and check that Sam was safe and sound, but he couldn’t let on that anything might be wrong so he nodded. “Anything you want, Dean.”

They found the least sticky booth and sat down across from each other, exhausted. Dean immediately folded his arms on the table and put his head down. Castiel stood up.

“You want anything?” he asked.

“Whiskey,” came Dean’s mumbled response.

Castiel gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and went up to the bar. There was a young college-aged girl tending the bar, her bright blue hair in a messy ponytail. There was a small shamrock on her cheekbone that had been partially smeared away. Castiel ordered a whiskey on the rocks and a beer for himself.

The girl saw the hospital badge around his neck and took hold of it, reading it. “On the house, Doctor Milton,” she said with a wink.

“Thanks, but I can -”

“You and your pal there look pretty rough,” she said, motioning to Dean, who’s head was still down. “Let me give you some free drinks.”

Castiel sat back down, sliding the whiskey across the table to Dean, who slowly brought his head up. Dean knocked back more than half the glass in one gulp. He went to put his head back down, but Castiel stopped him.

“Hey,” he put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” Dean whispered. 

“Is there something else wrong?” Castiel asked. “Work doesn’t usually affect you this bad.”

Dean was silent for a moment before letting out a long breath and saying, “Meg says I have PTSD. Sometimes something happens, or there’s a certain sound and I’m back in Iraq or Afghanistan. When that kid crashed and I heard his mother screaming.” Dean cleared his throat. Castiel could see his eyes shining with tears. 

“We were on a mission outside of Kabul. Supposed to invade this little village where these Al Qaeda dickheads were making IEDs and planting them around checkpoints. Benny was on the roof of this building about two klicks away, watching from the scope on his rifle. We raided the house we thought they were in, but our informant was wrong, they were in the adjacent house. We caught them outside. Benny took the shot on the leader he saw hiding behind a stack of oil barrels. Got him, but the barrels were metal. The bullet ricocheted. Hit this little boy in the neck.”

Dean was looking out the window as he spoke. He turned to look at Castiel, but he wasn’t really there. He was back in the desert, looking at the boy with a gunshot to the neck. He continued, “I had two soldiers trying to stop the bleeding while I did compressions for twenty minutes. There was no chance he’d survive, bullet nicked his jugular. He’d bled out in less than ten minutes. We had to move out, so we were told to leave the kid in the middle of the street. His mother saw the whole thing, was cursing us in Pashto. She clocked me pretty damn good in the jaw too.” He finished the rest of his drink and pushed the glass away. “Benny was a fucking mess for a couple days after - blamed himself. He was killed a week later, but I don’t know if he’d have lasted much longer anyway.”

“Why don’t you let Meg help you, let her formally diagnose you?” Castiel asked. “There are therapies, medications, things that can help you.”

“Because,” Dean sighed. “She diagnoses me, she has to let the hospital know and they put me on leave, maybe permanently. Nobody wants a sick doctor working on them. I like my job, Cas. I don’t want to leave it. It doesn’t happen often and when it does I just have to chill for a bit and let it pass.”

Castiel felt it wasn’t the right time to push anything or argue so he nodded. “You ready to head home?” Dean nodded.

  
  


Back at home, Dean and Castiel made their way back to their bedroom, shedding backpacks and shoes on the way. Castiel peered into Sam’s room. It was empty. He checked the time on his phone. 

8:27am.

“Sam isn’t home,” he said, undressing in the doorway to his and Dean’s room.

“Probably got a head start at the library. He’s aiming for Harvard Law, needs a lot of studying,” Dean said. He fell onto the bed still in his jeans and socks. Castiel glanced back at Sam’s room one more time before joining Dean in bed. He set his phone on the side table next to the bed so he’d hear it if Sam checked in. He and Dean were asleep within minutes. 

The sun was setting when Castiel woke to the sound of the front door opening and closing. He heard Sam curse as he tripped over a shoe. Castiel got out of bed, careful not to wake Dean, and found Sam in the dark living room.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam whispered. “Sorry, I woke you up. I didn’t -”

Castiel grabbed Sam’s arm. “Outside, now.” He dragged Sam down the stairs and outside onto the stoop of the apartment, standing there in only his boxers.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Cas?” Sam spat.

Castiel took Sam’s chin in his hand, checking his pupils in the porch light. “Sam, your eyes are dilated. Jesus,” Castiel let go of his chin. “Your fucking nose is bleeding.”

Sam went wide eyed and quickly wiped his hand across his upper lip, smearing away the blood. “Cas, it isn’t what -”

“Save it. Meg saw you at Newmarket.” Castiel said. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been meeting Ruby?”

“Cas, no. I swear -”

“Your tox screen came back positive for Cocaine, Sam. And Meg checked with the library. They said you’ve been requesting books on demon mythology.”

With shaking hands, Sam sat on the steps in front of them. Staring straight ahead, he said, “Does Dean know?”

“No,” Castiel answered. “And he’s not going to know. He can’t handle this right now. I’m going to give you two weeks to straighten out. No meeting up with Ruby, no demon mythology. You will go to the library to study and you will come home. Do you hear me?” Sam nodded. “I’m going to speak with Meg tomorrow and you’re going to do anything and everything she deems necessary for your recovery.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Sam murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“I believe you,” Castiel said. “Get yourself together before you go back inside. Then sleep it off.”

Castiel went back to bed, staying awake until he heard Sam come back inside and go to his room.

Later in the week at work, Castiel met with Meg in their office while Dean was at lunch. “He thinks I’m with Doctor Rosen in Pediatric Oncology,” Cas said. “I’ve only got a few minutes.”

“This isn’t going to work,” Meg sighed. “I want it too, but I’m being realistic.”

“Then put him back in in-patient.”

“Dean will never let that happen. I had one chance with him. I never should’ve let him go home.”

“Fuck!” Castiel snapped, running a hand through his hair.

“Dean has to be told,” Meg said.

“Not right now. Not at work,” Castiel said, pacing the length of the room. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

Castiel got through the rest of work, got through dinner, and tried to nonchalantly wait for Sam to get home. Dean was cleaning up the kitchen when he got home.

“Hey, Sammy,” he called. “How’d studying go?”

“Great,” Sam answered, meeting Castiel in the living room. “Sorry, I’m late. I just got caught up reading, I swear.” He pulled a law book out of his messenger bag as proof.

“It’s okay,” Castiel said. “But we have to tell him.”

“What? No. Cas, I swear. Check my eyes.” Sam pulled on his bottom eyelids to show they weren’t dilated. “Look. Look at my nose.” 

Castiel calmly pushed Sam down on the couch. “I know. I know, Sam, but we have to. We have to.”

“No. Check my bag. Only law books, I promise.”

“What’s going on here?” Dean stood just outside of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, a confused grin on his face.

“Dean,” Castiel started.

“Cas, no,” Sam pleaded.

Dean’s face went serious instantly. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Sam broke down. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I’m sorry. I tried, honestly. I tried so hard, but she bumped into me last month…”

“She? She who? Cas?” Dean looked to Castiel, his voice breaking.

“Meg saw him with Ruby,” Cas said softly. “His tox screen came back positive for -”

“Oh god, Sammy,” he groaned, turning his back on the two of them. “Goddammit, Sam.”

“And the library staff said he was requesting books on demon mythology,” Castiel finished, his head down.

“Goddammit, Sam!” Dean yelled. He turned and threw his fist into the wall, denting it. “Fuck!” He shook his hand and Castiel could see it turning bright red.

“Dean, calm down,” Castiel said, walking over to check his hand.

“I’m not gonna calm down!” he yelled, letting Castiel look over his hand. “Why, Sam? Why’d you have to do it?” He pulled out his phone, dialed a number and put it to his ear. “Go pack your bags.”

“What?” Sam asked through tears. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t -”

“I know you are, Sammy. I love you, but - Hey, Bobby.” Dean slid his hand out of Castiel’s hand and went to their room, closing the door.

Castiel stood there watching Sam wipe away his tears and slowly walk back to his room. He followed Sam, stopping in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he said. “But it’s the best thing for you.”

“I know,” Sam said, pulling out two duffel bags from under his bed. He began to pack silently. Castiel stood there silently as well until half an hour later Dean emerged from their room.

“Sam,” he murmured, still holding his phone. Sam stopped packing and looked up at him. “I’m getting you on a flight tomorrow to South Dakota. You’re gonna stay with Bobby. I’m gonna talk to Doctor Masters about getting you into an out patient program in Sioux Falls.” Sam nodded. “Pack what you can and I’ll get the rest to you as soon as I can.” He turned to Castiel. “I’m gonna step outside and talk to Meg for a minute.”

Castiel left Sam to finish packing and went on to bed. Hours later, Dean shuffled in. He crawled into bed next to Castiel, trying to keep his sniffling quiet. Castiel hesitantly wrapped an arm around Dean’s middle. He breathed a sigh of relief when Dean pulled his arm tighter around him. He felt deep in his stomach that things were just getting started and he wasn’t sure if either of them would be able to handle it.

  
  


Sam had been in South Dakota for roughly four months. Dean called Bobby every day to check in. Sam refused to speak with him most days and on the days he would speak, Castiel could hear him begging to come back to Boston, promising to do better. Castiel could see that it killed Dean, who hadn’t been the same since Sam left. He was always tired, constantly on edge; Castiel had a feeling the PTSD had not abated since the incident with the little boy. He kept in almost constant contact with Meg, who feared a mental breakdown at any moment. Castiel felt he may have his own breakdown if life didn’t lighten up soon.

He had gone for a run one afternoon on his day off in an attempt to clear his head from the suffocating atmosphere of the apartment. He had run almost fifteen miles in the dead of July. By the time he got back to the apartment he was ready to take a shower and relax. 

People were still setting off leftover fireworks from their Fourth of July celebrations on their block. That had not been a fun holiday. The first explosion of the evening had found Dean huddling in the corner, peering out of the bay window, swearing he was in Iraq, and calling Castiel, Benny. It took the rest of the night to convince him he wasn’t in the Middle East, fireworks going off every hour and having to start over again.

So it wasn’t a surprise, when Castiel walked in the apartment, to find Dean sat against the wall under the window with the wild far away eyes he had during these episodes. But this time his cell phone was clutched in his hand.

“Dean…” Castiel entered the living room as quietly as he could. “You okay?”

Dean shook his head, rubbing his eyes hard with the heels of his palms. “I just got a call from a guy in my company,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Adam Milligan killed himself last night.”

Castiel had to take a second to figure out why that name sounded familiar. Then it hit him - the young man they ran into almost a year ago. “Oh, Dean...I’m sorry,” Castiel said softly. He approached Dean as if he were a skittish animal and sat next to him on the floor. “C’mere,” he whispered.

Dean didn’t move until Castiel gently pulled on his shirt sleeve. He then put his head into Castiel’s lap, curling up next to him. It worried Castiel that Dean hadn’t shed a single tear. 

“When is the funeral?”

“Thursday. Over in Worchester.”

“Do you want me to go?”

Dean gave a noncommittal shrug.


	16. Chapter 16

It was the night before the funeral. Dean was hanging his dress blues in the motel closet next to Castiel’s suit while Castiel flipped through the local channels from the bed. Dean carefully set his pristine white cap on the desk next to the closet, straightening the gold band around it. 

“You hungry?” he asked, still facing the closet.

It was the first thing he’d said all day. Castiel muted the television and sat up. “Um, yeah,” he answered.

“The place next door looked like it might have some decent food.”

They walked to the diner attached to their motel. There were neon lights buzzing, casting an eerie glow on the night sky. They grabbed a booth and Dean quickly insisted on sitting on the side facing the entrance. He immediately stuck his nose in a menu, closing off from potential conversation. He mumbled an order of a hamburger, fries, and a beer. Castiel ordered the same and sat there awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact with Dean and the urge to start a conversation.

“So, uh…” Castiel trailed off. Dean stared at him expectantly. Castiel sighed, lifting the hood of his Red Sox sweatshirt over his head.

Dean leaned across the table and gave Castiel’s hand a squeeze, holding it until the waitress brought their food.

  
  


Castiel was sweating and overheated in his black suit as he stood under the tent watching an american flag being folded and handed to PFC Milligan’s Fiancee. Dean stood rigid next to him at attention like every other Marine in attendance. Castiel had a strong urge to grab his hand for support, but tampered it down. 

The funeral director then began lowering the casket into the ground. A soldier played taps a few feet away and upon hearing the first note, every Marine removed their hat, cradling it in their arm, and saluted the lowering casket. Castiel was entranced, watching Dean and the others silently move in sync as if it were a dance only they knew. 

At the end of the funeral, Dean put his cap back on and stepped to the edge of the crowd, his hands clasped in front of him, Castiel awkwardly at his side. They watched as Adam’s Fiancee was assisted back to the family car, black streaks of mascara running down her face as she clutched the folded flag to her chest. Castiel looked over at Dean in time to see a tear fall down his cheek. Without thinking, Castiel went to grab his white-gloved hand.

“I can’t,” he whispered through gritted teeth. Castiel tried to catch just his pinky or his wrist, something on him to feel connected, to let him know he was there for him. “I  _ can’t _ .”

Castiel bit down on his tongue to keep his emotions in check. He loosened his tie, hoping it would help him to stop feeling stifled. As he did so, another Marine came up to the two of them; his blonde buzzcut shone with sweat. He snapped a salute to Dean, who nodded, and stood at ease. 

“Lieutenant,” he grunted. He quickly smiled and pulled Dean into a hug, clapping him on the back and knocking both of their caps askew. “How the hell are you, Winchester?”

“I’m decent,” Dean said, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. There was a beat of silence as the Marine glanced at Castiel before Dean spoke up. “Sorry, man. This is my good friend Cas. Works with me at the hospital back in Boston. Cas, this is Lance Corporal Bryan Roberts.”

“No shit. If he’s as loud and demanding in the ER as he was in company then everybody’s in good hands,” Bryan laughed, shaking Castiel’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel smiled nervously.

Bryan stepped closer to Dean and Castiel lowering his voice. “Not sure if you saw, but Benny’s daughter is here.” 

Dean immediately lifted the brim of his cap to scan the crowd. “Cara’s here?” He spotted her and took off, leaving Bryan and Castiel standing there. 

Castiel slipped his suit jacket off, draping it over his arm, watching as Dean strided over to a young girl no more than thirteen years old. She had loose strawberry blonde waves falling almost to her waist. Her sky blue sundress fluttered in what little breeze there was. Dean approached her cautiously, bending just slightly at the waist to speak in her ear. She turned around, her eyes wide. When she saw that it was indeed Dean, she reached on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hey, baby girl,” he chuckled into her hair.

“He ever tell you about Cara?” Castiel realized Bryan was speaking to him as they watched the moment.

“Huh? Oh, um, no,” Castiel stuttered. “He hasn’t. I know about Benny, but I didn’t know he had a daughter.”

“Yeah. LaFitte and Winchester went through Officer training together. Cara was born in the middle of it. Had the both of them wrapped around her finger.” Bryan cleared his throat. “LaFitte died over there and when they told Cara’s mother, she abandoned Cara at a local church like she was a newborn - she was a damn toddler. I get that losing him had to be hard, but that’s your kid right there. Anyway, Winchester came back with his body and took her in for eight months until they located her grandmother. He kept in touch for the longest time - weekend visits, birthday cards - but then she and her grandmother moved down to North Carolina and I guess things got hectic for him being a doctor. I don’t think he’s seen her in...six years?”

Castiel watched Dean’s face light up more than it had in a month. He put Cara back on her feet and twirled her around, getting the full view of how much she’d grown. Castiel was in awe of the gentleness between the two of them. Cara put a hand to Dean’s cheek, scratching it and giggling. 

“I have no doubt he’d have kept her permanently if they never found her grandmother,” Bryan murmured.

Castiel couldn’t believe Dean had never spoken about this part of his life, being a stand-in father for this little girl. He was realizing just how much he still didn’t know about this astoundingly complicated man he loved.

Dean pointed towards Bryan and Castiel, holding his arm out for Cara. She nodded with a big grin, taking hold of his arm and walking with him.

“Hi Mr. Roberts!” She waved enthusiastically.

“My god, look how much you’ve grown,” Bryan laughed.

Dean cleared his throat, making nervous eye contact with Castiel. “Cara, this is my good friend Castiel. Cas, this Cara Lafitte.” Dean looked down at Cara, running a gloved hand down the back of her head. Castiel thought he looked exactly like a proud father.

“Castiel? That’s such a nice name,” she said shyly.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Cara,” he smiled.

Dean clasped the girl’s hand in his. “I’m gonna talk to her grandmother for a minute. I’ll be right back. You okay here?” he asked Castiel.

Castiel nodded as Bryan said, “Go on. I’m making a new friend here.”

Dean rolled his eyes, turning Cara back towards the crowd. As they walked away, she looked over her shoulder and gave a small wave good-bye just to Castiel.

“Me and a couple of guys from the old company are going out later for drinks,” Bryan said. “You think you guys would wanna go?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Cool,” Bryan said, giving Castiel a quick pat on the back before he started walking away. He saluted Dean as they walked by. “Lieutenant Winchester.” Dean returned the salute half-heartedly.

“Let’s get out of this heat,” Dean said softly. He and Castiel made their way back to the Impala among the long line of cars. 

As they drove back to the motel, Castiel sat in the uncomfortable silence for what seemed like forever. He had shed his tie and unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt, but he was still hot, so he rolled down his window letting the wind cool him.

“Why didn’t you ever mention Cara?” he ventured, barely audible above the wind. Dean turned the a/c in full blast signaling Castiel to roll his window up. He did so and waited. 

“It’s really fucking hard to talk about.” Dean said. “I loved that kid like she was mine.”

“Bryan said you would’ve kept her if you could,” Castiel, keeping his gaze forward on the road.

“Roberts has always talked too much,” Dean mumbled. After a beat he said, “She was my link to Benny. I’d just lost him and I felt responsible for her not having a father anymore. When they found her grandmother I considered fighting to keep her, but I wasn’t stable enough for her. My PTSD was starting and it wouldn’t have been fair on her. So I started distancing myself from her. Where she’s at is the best place for her right now.” Dean shook his head, going silent for a while. “Anyway, I need to get these damn wool pants off. I’m dying.” Dean removed his cap and gloves, steering with his knee.

“I was asked to get you out for drinks with your company,” Castiel said.

“Cas, I really don’t…”

“I think it’d be good for you,” Castiel said firmly.

Dean glanced at him, the corner of his mouth crooking up. “What happened to the nervous newbie that used to trip around my ER?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “We should go. I promise I won’t touch you -”

“Cas, I’m sorry. Don’t -”

“Or you can go and hang out with them on your own. I’m totally fine with hanging around the motel.”

“No,” Dean said, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. “I’ll go, but I want you to go with me.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed. Dean ran his fingers down Castiel’s arm to his hand, linking their fingers. They were quiet for the rest of the ride back to the motel. Castiel foolishly thought things may just start looking up.

  
  


It started with a call to Bobby to check in.

“I know,” Dean said into the phone. His voice was raised to be heard over the shouting on the other end of the line. “I know I said that, Sammy. I can’t though. Some things have come up...I need you, too, but I can’t come out there right now. I just have to postpone it for a while. Yeah, well, I may need a break, but I can’t fucking take one right now. Sam? Sam, please don’t do this. I can’t take it...Fine.”

Dean handed Castiel his phone, annoyance clear on his face. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?” He took the phone. “Sam? Hey.”

“Wait until he walks outside,” Sam said.

“I don’t think -”

“We fight, he walks outside. Always has.”

Castiel watched, slightly amazed, as Dean wrapped his knuckles on the cheap wooden desk, stood, and walked towards the door. “I’m gonna take a quick walk,” he said before leaving.

“He leave?” Sam asked.

“Um...yeah,” Castiel answered.

“What’s going on with him, Cas? He hasn’t been calling as often, and when he does it’s super short. He yelled at Bobby for no reason the last time he called,” Sam explained. Castiel wasn’t aware of that. The tension permeating from Dean the last couple months was starting to bleed onto everyone he interacted with.

“I don’t know, Sam. I wish I did. I think...I think maybe his PTSD is getting worse. I’ve been keeping Meg updated, but I don’t know what to do if he won’t get psychiatric help.”

“Well, why’s he so agitated right now?”

“We just got back from the funeral for a guy in his company,” Castiel mumbled. “Suicide.”

“Aw, Jesus…” Sam groaned. “Fuck. I’m an asshole.”

“No you aren’t,” Castiel assured. “You didn’t know. You have a lot going on too and Dean understands that. I’ll keep a closer eye on him, try to keep him calm. You relax and keep on the up and up.”

Sam sighed heavily, quiet for a moment. “You keep my brother safe, Castiel.”

“I’m trying.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “He should be walking back in any second now.”

Just then, Dean walked into the motel room, a little sweatier, but somewhat calmer. “Wow…” Castiel was still slightly creeped out by the knowing bond between the Winchester brothers.

“Can I talk to my brother again, Cas?” Sam asked.

Castiel handed Dean the phone, giving his arm a squeeze and saying, “I’m gonna get a quick shower.”

Dean nodded. “Hey, Sammy...I know, I love you, too. Yeah…” Dean’s voice faded as Castiel shut the bathroom door behind himself. He turned on the water in the bathtub, just a hair above cold so he could properly cool down. He stood in front of the rapidly fogging mirror. He wondered when the circles under his eyes grew so dark and when his cheeks had become gaunt. He was suddenly so tired, drained from the past months. He undressed, finally peeling off the godforsaken suit. Slipping into the steaming bathtub, Castiel couldn’t control the groan that escaped his throat. He leaned back, closing his eyes, letting his muscles relax for the first time in ages.

Castiel didn’t know how long he’d been lying there in the water when he heard the bathroom door open and shut softly. He kept his eyes closed as he heard clothes drop to the floor and then a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward just enough for Dean to slip behind him. He let Castiel fall back against his chest before mumbling, “Jesus Christ…”

“You alright?” Castiel asked. He felt Dean’s chin on the top of his head as he nodded. “Good because we have to meet your friends at the bar in an hour.”

Dean’s groan echoed through the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the kind of abrupt end to this chapter, I just wanted to get it out to you guys. Things got a little hectic and will be getting a little more crazy with graduation next week and moving out of state again /le sigh/


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extreme delay in the next chapter (what else is new tbh), but my laptop crashed so I've been working off of a tablet and iPhone for personal writings. Bless google drive.

The bar was just down the highway from Dean and Castiel’s motel. It was a small, grungy pub sandwiched between an even grungier strip club and a now-closed deli. There were several marines already slamming down empty shot glasses when Dean and Castiel walked in. The group of men waved them back to the large circular booth in the back before ordering another round of shots.  
“Winchester, you made it!” Bryan yelled, clapping him and Castiel on the backs. “Hey, Cas. Guys, this Winchester’s friend from Boston.”  
Castiel looked around at the group nervously, wanting to take Dean back to their room where he felt comfortable. A man with closely cropped red hair and glasses held up a shot of what looked like tequila to Castiel.  
“You a doctor, too?” he asked.  
Castiel nodded, hesitating to take the glass. He waited a hair too long, making it awkward, before Dean took the glass and downed it, his wince almost imperceptible. He slid into the booth next to the red haired man, going to grab Castiel’s hand to pull him in alongside him before masking it by grabbing another shot. Castiel wordlessly slid in next to him with Bryan following.   
Over the next hour Castiel was an audience to war stories and reminiscing on boot camp hijinks. He noticed Dean and a couple other men get increasingly agitated by the combination of hard music and rowdy frat boys at the end of the bar. Castiel had a vice grip on Dean’s knee under the table, attempting to keep him calm.   
As a heavy metal song began to build, so did the volume of the frat boys. The bullet-like drum beats of the song blasted through the speaker as one of the boys shouted in excitement. It was too much for the red-headed man from earlier. He was up and flipping the table before anyone could stop him. Shot glasses scattered, adding to the war zone effect.   
“Hank!” Someone shouted at the red head. Bryan and a couple other men were up and following Hank as he stalked towards the frat boys, hand gripping something under his shirt.  
“What the fuck’s your -” Hank punched the ringleader of the boys in the jaw before he could finish. There was a collective shout of surprise from both sides, other bar patrons hollering as Dean, Castiel, and the rest of the men surrounded Hank.   
“You’re gonna shut your fucking mouth, you desert dwelling mother fucker!” Hank shouted. “I am a goddamn American soldier! You’re going to fucking listen to me.” Bryan steadily pulled on Hank’s arm to no avail, he was in the throes of a PTSD attack. Castiel could see in his eyes he was no longer in a bar in Massachusetts, but a battlefield in the Middle East. Castiel thought he could feel a potentially huge scuffle brewing.   
Dean made one swift movement in his peripheral vision and then Castiel heard a skin-prickling click right next to his ear that silenced the entire room. He turned his head just slightly to see Dean had grabbed the pistol from Hank’s waistband and had cocked the hammer of the gun.  
“Dean…” Castiel whispered, tugging gently on Dean’s shirt trying to get him to lower the gun. Everyone in the bar was frozen, eyes on Dean, who hadn’t said a word. He had joined Hank on the battlefield; he wasn’t looking at tipsy college boys, he was staring at what he thought was the enemy. Castiel gave another tug, whispering Dean’s name in his ear.  
“You’re gonna drop that gun or the cops will be here within two minutes,” the bartender said, a phone in one hand, an old rifle in the other.  
“No no no!” Bryan said, separating Hank from the group and standing between the frat boys and the gun in Dean’s hand. “We’re vets. I’m sorry, they’re just having a bit of an episode. We’re all leaving. Dean? Dean, we’re done. Mission over, Lieutenant. Copy?”  
Dean slid his gaze from the boys to Bryan’s wide eyes. It had redirected his attention long enough for Castiel to slip the gun from Dean’s hand. Quickly, turning to the bartender, Castiel removed the magazine from the gun and the single bullet in the chamber, leaving everything on the bar for the bartender to see.  
“Time to move out, Lieutenant,” Bryan said softly to Dean.   
Castiel escorted Dean outside to the car as Bryan rounded up the rest of the group. He had Dean buckled into the passenger’s seat, checking vitals when Bryan walked over to them.   
“I’m real fucking sorry about that, man,” Bryan said quietly. “He gonna be okay?”  
Castiel looked down at Dean with his head in his hands. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “Not your fault though. We shouldn’t have come. He’s been having a rough go of it.”  
Bryan was quiet for a minute, staring at Dean who was unaware to the real world. Eventually, he asked, “So you’re his best friend, huh?”  
Castiel stiffened. He could feel what was really being said. You aren’t his best friend, you’re his boyfriend, aren’t you? Castiel kept quiet.  
“Yeah, I had a hunch it was more than he was letting on,” Bryan said, clearing his throat. He bent and stuck his hand into the car, gripping Dean’s hand tightly. “You take care of yourself, Lieutenant.” He waited, hoping for Dean to acknowledge him, but he did not. He stood back up and shook Castiel’s hand firmly. “Don’t let anything happen to him. I can’t take going to another funeral any time soon.”


End file.
